i LIBRARY OF COAGRKSS. 






J UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



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Heart Peoblems. 



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BY 



LYDIA W. STEPHENS 



'* I were conteat, could I be but a flower 
Up at the feet of thesie." 

T. Buchanan Read. 




PHILADELPHIA: 

424 WALNUT STREET. 
1870. 



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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by 

LYDIA W. STEPHENS, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Conrt of the United States, in and for the 
Eastern District of Peniisylviuii.i.. 



TO 
MY DEAR UNCLE AND FOJIMER GUARDIAN, 

JOSEPH DAY IS, 

AS A 
TOKEN OF SINCERE GRATITUDE 

FOR HIS UNTIRING AND DISINTERESTED KINDNESS 

TO THE 

ORPHAN AND THE MOTHERLESS, 

I MOST AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATE THIS VOLUME, 

Norrisfown, Pa. 



PREFACE 



E 


1 



HAVE solved them all — all these intricate 
problems — as one by one the unfolding of 
the pages of Life's Volume has revealed 
them to me. Difficult has been the solu- 
tion, and mournful the result of some. Yet, with a grate- 
ful heart, I now review them, conscious that to me has 
been justly awarded that common lot of humanity, to 
enjoy, to suffer, and endure. ' 

Heart-problems ! Who has not solved them ? Who 
has not felt the ecstatic joy, or the overwhelming grief, 
which their solution brings ? And who does not hope, one 
day, to present them to the Great Teacher, in the humble 
confidence that the same omniscience that has discerned 
every conflict between the weak flesh and the willing 
spirit, will pronounce upon them the welcome plaudit of 
" well-done ?" 

The oft-repeated solicitations of personal friends have 
eventually induced me to subject this volume of my 
original productions to public criticism. Many of them 

have heretofore appeared in some of the periodicals of 
l"" 5 



6 PEEFACE. 

my own and sister States — mostly over a fictitious signa- 
ture — while others have, until now, retained their manu- 
script form. Some of them were written previous to the 
dark hours of the rebellion ; others, during its most appal- 
ling tragedies ; and yet others, since the last four years of 
a nominal peace have enabled us to partially recover from 
the murderous assaults upon our national existence. 

To the advocates of non-resistance who may peruse this 
volume, a portion of its contents may seem like apologies for, 
if not eulogiums of the barbarous practice of settling, by 
means of a wholesale human carnage, whatever difficulties 
may arise between nations. Yet, such w^as by no means 
the sj^irit which prompted those productions. War, with 
its horrid accompaniments, has always been hateful to me. 
I loathe its very name. But', a war waged for the emanci- 
pation of a long-oppressed people, and participated in by 
the truest type of American manhood, w^as a theme cal- 
culated to awaken the deepest sympathy, and furnish 
inspiration for the humblest pen. I admire, almost rev- 
erence, that truly Christian spirit that resists not evil ; 
yet when, contrasting the homes of those which the war 
had death-dreared, with the few that had escaped that 
desolation — I have asked myself the question. Which of 
these is bearing the heaviest cross ? — every feeling of 
justice and humanity has prompted me to a decision in 
favor of the former. And when, too, in those days of 
sorest trial, I have seen friends and connexions dissuading 



PREFACE. 7 

their loved ones from obeying what had seemed to them 
the voice of duty — their country's call — and, in a short 
time, beheld those same loved ones cold in death, either 
from disease or accident, I have been led to exclaim — 
Surely, the hand of God is in this thing ! and they who 
refuse to make sacrifice to their nation, in this, her hour 
of peril, may be called upon to make greater sacrifices, 
in a moment when they deem themselves most secure 
therefrom. Hence, whether a pacific or a warlike spirit 
pervades these effiisions, one motive only has prompted 
their production— that of keeping forever paramount the 
great principles of truth, justice, and humanity. 

The book, with whatever merits or demerits it may 
possess, is now alike at the mercy of sympathizing friends 
and a scrutinizing public, and its Authoress, while she 
asks for it a fair and impartial criticism, claims the privi- 
lege of advancing in its behalf this one brief argument — 

" 'Tis the heart gives value to words." 

L. W. S. 



OOI^TEE"TS. 



PAGE. 

Preface, 5 

Inquiee Within, ..." 13 

The Spirit Bride, 18 

go and do thou likewise, 30 

Autumnal Musings, 32 

The Old Chestnut Tree, 34 

Let me Die at home, 37 

Search the Scriptures, 40 

The Thunder Storm, 43 

Perpetual Bloom, 46 

Hold on ! 48 

They Slumber here, 50 

Home Thoughts, 54 

Our Sunbeam, 57 

Our Shadow, 59 

The Room where Loved Ones Die, 61 

Heavenly Treasures, 63 

Let Jehovah Judge ! 65 

Cast thy Bread upon the Waters, 67 

Dying Embers, 69 

Landscapes of Life, 71 

How shall we know them there ? 76 

'Tis Home where the Heart is, 79 

9 



10 CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Without an Enemy, 84 

The Fkost upon the Pane, 87 

Reminiscences, 90 

The Child's Matin Hymn, .93 

Gone to Rest, 96 

Description of a Winter Morning, 98 

My Vocation, 101 

Luck and Pluck, 103 

I wouldn't be Jealous if I were you, 105 

Childhood's Home, 107 

Birth-day Pencillings, 110 

Summer Clouds, 113 

To my Niece, on her ninth birth-day, 115 

"Gilpin's Rocks." — Cecil County, Maryland, . . . 118 

Autumn Leaves, 120 

The Spirit Land, 123 

God made us to be Happy, . 124 

Fugitive Lays, 126 

Curling Smoke, 129 

Fidelity, 131 

Come up Higher, 133 

Ripples in the Grain, 138 

Gone Before, '. . 141 

Charity, 144 

The Old Homestead, 147 

Summer Friends, 150 

Faithful is He that Calleth you, 154 

The Three Soliloquies, 156 

God Tempers the Wind to the Shorn Lamb, . . . 160 

Under-Currents, ,. . 162 

Impromptu to Water, .165 

To the Schuylkill River, 169 

Practise what you Preach ; or, Example better than 

Precept, 172 

Omniscience, 175 

Random Thoughts, 177 



CONTENTS. 11 



PAGE 



The Inebriate's Wife, 180 

My Other Self, 183 

Our Father ! 186 

The Wreck of a Broken Life, 188 

White Swearing, 191 

Independence must have Limits, 193 

The Exodus of the Nineteenth Century, .... 195 

In Memoriam, 198 

After the Battle, 200 

Navis Republics, 203 

When the War Ends, 206 

Fort Pillow, , 209 

Our Dead Heroes, 212 

What I Saw, Heard, and Thought, etc., .... 216 

From Gettysburg, 225 

Strength through Adversity, 227 

Not Returned, 236 

Our Nation's Grief, 240 

Immortals, 245 

Our Ensign, 253 

Gathered to his Fathers, 257 

One Year in the Spirit-Land, 260 

Going to the Springs, 262 

Earth's Great Ones, 267 

The Sighing op the Pines, 269 

It is Finished, 272 



INQUIRE WITHIN. 



STANZAS SUGGESTED BY SOME OF THE STIRRING EVENTS 
OF THE WINTER OF 1859-60. 



Within this age of humbug and pretence, 

AVhen men of nonsense pass for men of sense ; 

When so-called teachers pompously profess 

A tact and talent which they don't possess ; 

When shrewd attorneys, claiming what they please, 

Enrich their purses from their clients' fees ; 

When would-be doctors swell their patients' bills, 

By puffing "sovereign balms" and "cure-all pills;" 

When Pharisaic cavillers at sin 

Steal Heaven's garb " to serve the devil in ;" 

When worldly-wise, manoeuvering mammas 

Would fain entrap young gents with rich papas; 
2 13 



14 INQUIKE WITHIN. 

When wily politicians hourly seek 

Lucrative offices both fat and sleek ; 

And principle — that guardian of the free — 

Is sacrificed for popularity ; 

'Tis mete that all Life's duties who begin, 

Should first this motto learn— INQUIEE WITHIN. 

Pray note our Congress halls this present term 1 

Of wide dissensions the well-nourished germ : 

Our periodicals, with vain regret, 

Each day and hour proclaim, " No Speaker Yet !" 

While Greeley, as his Tribune circulates, 

In witty language, it denominates 

A place in which our learned men of state 

Have met to carry on a brisk debate. 

The "Black Eepublicans " at once agree 

No one but Sherman shall their speaker be ; 

While Southerners with scorn and terror look 

On all who would encourage " Helper's Book." 

Some slander'd representatives Avould hiin 

Newspaper paragraphs at length explain ; 

From Stevens' tongue sarcastic arrows fly ; 

And Hickman moves adjournment, sine die ! 

What is the matter? Such delay is sin ! 

Why don't ,some cooler heads inquire within ? 



INQUIRE WITHIN. 15 

Now pause we where imposing walls arise, 

And spire points upward to th' arcbing skies. 

Come, let us enter — everywhere we see 

The evidence of pride and pageantry ; 

Seeming to bear unto the startled ear, 

The heartless words — " iYo poor may enter here H 

The organ sounds — Christ's messenger has come, 

His mission is to lead earth's wand'rers home. 

In prayer he kneels — the strains of music cease, 

He seeks to break the bread of life and peace. 

List to his words 1 Can you among them trace 

Ideas suited to his hearers' case ? 

Ah, no I too frequently they're gilded o'er, 

To screen the crimes his sonl would else deplore ! 

Sin's sinfulness his spirit's eye can't see ; 

'Tis dazzled by his glittering salary. 

Thus God's own courts are made the courts of sin, 

Because His tenants don't inquire within. 

Anon my muse the social circle gains ; 

Where Fashion proud her regal sway maintains ; 

She leads me through those richly garnished halls, 

Thronging with gentry making "New Year's calls;" 

She bids me mark that swarthy Cuban king 

His costly gifts to yon fair lady bring ! 



16 INQUIKE WITHIN. 

Bids me a " Diamond Wedding " to beliold ! 
"Whose guests, arrayed in satins, pearls, and gold, 
Now issue forth from that imposing dome, 
Of wealth and luxury the princely home. 
They pass in state along the crowded street ; 
The great cathedral door at length they greet ; 
They enter, and in solemn language take 
Those holy vows which Death alone should break. 
To moralize my muse would now begin: 
I wonder if they both inquire within. 

Lo I near Potomac's shore we next are seen, 
Where Harper's Ferry opes a fearful scene ; 
Hark ! from her arsenal the clash of arms 
Grows fiercer, louder, as the contest warms. 
What means it ? — List ! A small, undaunted band, 
Possessed of an idea great and grand, 
Obedient to their honor'd Chieftain's word, 
" Commissioned," as he terms it, "from the Lord," 
Fired with the zeal that bought owr liberty, 
Another race from thraldom seek to free. 
" Madman ! Fanatic [" is the phrenzied cry : 
" Martyr !" resounds in solemn symphony, 
As he, the truthful, brave, doth calmly come 
Forth from his cell to meet a felon's doom. 



. INQUIRE WITHIN. 17 

Let us not marvel, if, across tlie main, 
Sucli news arouse a Hugo's just disdain ! 
Virginia, 'tis to thee we owe this scene I 
Pause then, and honestly inquire within ! 

And noAV, kind friends, my humble task is done ; 
Ko laurels have I gained, no trophies won ; 
Bat, if I have amid this uncouth rhyme. 
Devoid of language, graceful or sublime. 
Awakened in some warmly throbbing heart 
A new resolve to act the better part. 
Distrust appearance, shun deception's car. 
And learn to view Life's objects as they are ; 
To join with fearless soul the moral fight. 
And don the badge of justice, truth, and right ; 
To seek, with heart sincere, that grace so free, 
Christ deigns to offer unto you and me ; 
If this be done, my purpose is attained, 
My wishes have been met, my object gained. 
Then may we, when our sovereign Judge shall look 
To our accounts within His mystic Book, 
Present a page, unblemished by a sin. 
To Him w^hose searching eye inquire within. 
2^- 



THE SPIRIT BRIDE. 



Once, within the dewy summer, shaded by a sighing 

grove, 
Sat and chatted three young maidens, telling o'er 

their tales of love. 
In her turn a witching fairy — zephyrs toying with 

her curls. 
Clad in vestments light and airy, answered — " Now I 

tell you, girls, 
If I thought I'd never marry, 'twould to me be source 

of dread ; 
For of all the hateful creatures none excel a prim old 

maid ; 
Stiffly starched, and cross, and fretful, ugly as they 

well can be, 
Kever loved and never loving — from such fate deliver 

mel" 

18 



THE SPIEIT BEIDE. 19 

Thus outspoke the briglit-ejed Cora — Cora Ljaiu, 

the village pet ; 
Then, reproving, Maud Magregor raised to her her 

eyes of jet, 
Saying, " You've forgotten, surely, in the bold ha- 
rangue you've made, 
That our loving, loved Aunt Rosie is herself 'a prim 

old maid,' 
Happy with her foster-children in her cottage by the 

sea^ — 
She'll at least prove one exception, Cora, to your 

theory." 
"Aunt Rosalbert, I'd forgotten," Cora blushingly 

replied. 
" But come, girls, let's seek her cottage by the briny 

Ocean's side ! 
Somehow I now feel romantic ; and, perchance, if e'er 

she loved, 
She will tell us all the story, how her faith was tried 

and proved." 
At her cottage door Aunt Rosie welcomed them with 

friendly smile. 
Gave them seats beneath the woodbine, gaily chat- 
ting all the while; 
But, when they make known their errand, transient 

clouds that smile efface, 



20 THE SPIRIT BEIDE. 

Just as summer clouds at noonday flit across the 

sun's bright face. 
Gaining then her wonted cahxiness, thus the kindly 

spinster spoke, 
Words, whose earnest, deep-toned utt'rance shimber- 

ing chords of mem'ry woke : 
" To begin aright my story, I my audience must 

bear 
Unto my dear home of chiklhood, when I knew not 

grief or care ; 
To a home hard by our cottage, where, in olden 

luxury. 
Dwelt a wealthy Irish noble, with his wife and chil- 
dren three ; 
Two were grown almost to girlhood ; one, a brave 

and handsome boy. 
Who, though seven years my senior, was my child- 
hood's pride and joy ; 
Charmed by Nature's rustic beauties roamed we 

through the woodlands wild — 
He a tall and graceful stripling, I a frail and slender 

child. 
Soon I knew my first great sorrow — death our happy 

tlireshold crossed; — 
Placed two names upon the record of my early loved 

and lost. 



THE SPIRIT BRIDE. 21 

Then that wealthy Irish noble kindly, thoughtfully 

did come, 
Proffering my dying parents their lone orphan child 

a home. 
Faithfully he kept that promise, faithfully and fondly 

too ; 
And my foster-mother, sisters, nought but fondness 

ever knew. 
Soon those loving foster-sisters breathed, in accents 

soft and low. 
Hymen's nuptials at the altar — left us other homes to 

know ; 
While the noble son and brother, earnest, talented, 

and brave, 
To the lonely one beside him kind attention ever 

gave; 
Little dreaming that such kindness might, in some 

unguarded hour, 
Chain each ardent aspiration by Love's ever-conquer- 
ing power ; 
Little dreaming that the praises given by others all 

the while. 
Caused no pleasure, if those virtues won from him 

no answering smile. 
But 'twas mine soon to discover — though against its 

power I strove — 



22 THE SPIRIT BRIDE. 

While I loved him fondly, wildly, his was but a 

brother's love ; 
For, one night, 'mid Fashion's mazes, we a graceful 

beauty view, 
With the mingled rose and lily clust'ring 'round her 

eyes of blue. 
Soon I saw my earthly idol seek that beauteous 

being's side ; 
Then each hope I'd vainly cherished slowly in my 

bosom died ; 
For I knew that such a being would that idol's 

homage claim. 
And forsake her home parental to assume his 

honored name. 
When he led her to the altar, rousing all my woman's 

pride, 
Calmly I performed each duty of the bridesmaid to 

the bride ; 
Nor was aught deceitful mingled even with an act 

like this ; 
For her fate with his was blending, and her happi- 
ness was his ; 
But I learned how much of torture human bosoms 

can conceal, 
While in secret they are mourning sorrows they dare 

not reveal. 



THE SPIRIT BRIDE. 23 

When the festal throng was over sought I solitude's 

retreat ; 
Pouring out my heartfelt anguish humbly at my 

Saviour's feet. 
There I found that consolation Avhich none ever seek 

in vain, 
And with spirit chastened, strengthened, took life's 

burden up again ; 
From my neck removed the necklace, tore the gar- 
land from my brow, 
Feeling that such costly trifles only mocked my 

spirit now. 
Arthur's home was bright as sunlight, children clus- 

ter'd 'round his hearth ; 
Till the lovely one who bore them, fading slowly — ■ 

passed from earth ; 
Then, unto his death-dreared household earnestly he 

bade me come. 
For my honored foster-parents late had sought 

another home. 
Bade me once again his life-path with my presence 

deign to bless ; — 
Comforting the lone, bereaved — fostering the mother- 
less. 
For a while I hesitated — shrinking from the world's 

cold sneers — ■ 



24 THE SPIRIT BRIDE. 

But the urgent voice of duty overcame all other 
fears. 

Entered on my new-found life-path, tranquil happi- 
ness was mine, 

Though I worshipped, still unheeded, at my dearest 
earthly shrine. 

Scarce a twelvemonth yet was numbered in the 
records of the past. 

Ere again o'er Arthur's threshold dire disease relent- 
less passed : 

His once firm, elastic footstep feebler grew from day 
to day, 

And I now, with keenest sorrow, marked him slowly 
fade away. 

Once, while sadly o'er him watching, struggling with 
my soul's unrest, 

He in tones both faint and faltering, thus my listen- 
ing ear addressed : — 

* Darling Eose, my Rose, mavourneen, listen to my 
accents now, 

While you wipe, with hand caressing, clammy 
sweats from off my brow. 

I am dying, Rose, mavourneen — -slowly, feebly comes 
my breath, 

And e'en now I feel the dampness of the chilling vale 
of death; 



THE SPIRIT BRIDE. 25 

And I'd fain to you, mavourneen, my heart's history 
reveal, 

Ere the sepulchre's closed portals all that history 
conceal. 

I would speak of one, mavourneen, one who loved 
me fondly, well ; 

Gone from earth in youth and beauty with the count- 
less host to dwell ; — 

T would speak of her, mavourneen, tell you of my 
spirit's thrall 

Since I, in a thoughtless moment, utter'd words I'd 
now recall. 

Dazzled by Kate's matchless beaut}^ — lured by her 
enticing charms. 

Once I fancied that I loved her — woo'd and won her 
to my arms ; 

But that day-dream scarce had faded ere your girlish 
form arose, 

Moving like a shade between us in my spirit's deep 
repose. 

Brief the love that Kate awakened — yours was last- 
ing as my life; 

Ere our marriage-vows were plighted felt I this in- 
ternal strife ; 

But I never yet had spoken, Eosa, of my love to 



26 THE SPIKIT BRIDE. 

And the seal remained unbroken ; honor bade me 

thus to do ; ■ . 

And you seemed so calm, unmoved, at my dazzling 

bridal scene, 
That I felt all unreturned would my love to you 

have been. 
But, since you became an inmate of my desolated 

home. 
Since Disease upon my vitals with his ravages has 

come, 
Since so anxiously you've watched me with a fervor 

nought could pall, 
I have learned your painful secret — Rosa, now I 

know it all. 
Yes, I know it — ^long have known it — and to tell you 

felt no dread ; 
But respect was due, mavourneen, to the memory of 

the dead. 
Sharing wholly my affections, as she thought, con- 
fidingly. 
She has passed from earth to heaven — to our home 

beyond the sky. 
Happy now among the angels doth her ransom'd 

spirit dwell, 
While to you, my first and only loved one, I this 

story tell. 



THE SPIRIT BRIDE. 27 

Be a mother to my children ! Love, protect them as 

your own ! 
Keeping sacred still the mem'ry of the parents they 

have known ! 
And, though here you have not trodden in Love's 

pathway by my side. 
None may doubt your claims in heaven ; for you are 

my spirit-bride.' 
Thus he lived and thus departed — he, my early, only 

love — 
And he now awaits my coming in celestial bliss 

above. 
Yonder come his merry children bounding through 

the wicket gate, 
From their walk upon the sea-beach — Carl, Rosal- 

bert, Blanche, and Kate." 
"But, Aunt Rosie," now responded frank, outspoken 

Effie Nohr, 
" Had you ne'er another suitor ?" " Yes, my darling, 

many more ! 
I with Arthur sought those mazes where I frequent- 
ly would meet 
Those who cast in rich profusion Cupid's off'rings at 

my feet. 
Charms I had — so flatt'rers told me — charms, accom 

plishments were mine. 



28 THE SPIKIT BRIDE. 

While my ample fortune brought me wily suitors to 

my shrine, 
But, when hearts like mine, so constant, so unchang- 
ing in their love, 
Once have centered their affections, nought can those 

affections move." 
As the summer sun, reclining gently on his 

crimson bed, 
Seemed to seek repose from labor, homeward they 

their journey sped. 
Chastened by Aunt Kosie's story, wiser for the truth 

it taught, 
Praying for a heart as constant each that night her 

chamber sought. 
Years have flown since that bright ev'ning, and 

upon each youthful brow 
Care has lightly left her traces; two are sober 

matrons now ; 
But the third — the bright-eyed Cora — Cora Lynn, 

the village pet — 
Keader, could you, would you think it ? — Cora is not 

married yet ! 
Vainly friends and kindred rally — nothing can her 

purpose move, 



THE SPIRIT BRIDE. 29 

As she laughingly informs them she'll not marry till 

she loves ; 
For Aunt Eosie's simple story long ago removed the 

dread 
Pictur'd in her girlish fancy of the epithet — old 

maid. 



3* 



GO AND DO THOU LIKEWISE! 

THOUGHTS SUGGESTED WHILE LISTENING TO AN ORATION 
ENTITLED " THE MORAL HERO," DELIVERED IN EULTON 
HALL, LANCASTER, PA., BY ONE OF THE GRADUATES OF 
FRANKLIN AND MARSHALL COLLEGE, IN THE SUMMER 
OF 1859. 



In one of Lancaster's capacious halls, 

That proudly bears immortal Fulton's name, 

I sat and listened to the echoing fall 

Of footsteps treading in the path to fame. 

Footsteps of those who proudly came to bear 
The trophies which their arduous toil had won ; 

Those fadeless laurels on their brows to wear, 
That tell of noble actions, nobly done. 

I listened, too, to music's stirring notes, 

Borne in rich melody upon the air ; 

While strains of eloquence alternate float 

In manly tones from those assembled there. 
30 



GO AND DO THOU LIKEWISE. 31 

And there was one — a slender, dark-ejed youth, 
Of pleasing, frank address, and earnest mien ; 

Forth from whose lips pure gems of sterling truth 
Flash'd like bright rays shed from Sol's glitt'ring 
sheen. 

His theme — " The Moral Hero " — noble theme 
For orator's harangue or author's pen ; 

His words all potent and enchanting seem, 
Portraying duty to his fellow-men. 

He spoke of those who, in the cause of truth, 
Come boldly forth to battle for the right ; 

And urged on all, alike in age or youth, 

To don, in proud array. Truth's armor bright. 

My unknown friend, though I no more may see 
Thy form, nor listen to thy earnest tone ; 

May'st thou, in ages of futurity. 

In Truth's great cause blush not to stand alone. 

Earth needs such moral heroes — Go thou forth 1 
And what thou preachest strive to practise too I 

God aid thee in a cause so fraught with worth, 
And bless thy actions, earnest, just and true ! 



AUTUMNAL MUSINGS. 



There's a landscape, lovely and serene, 

That I from my chamber view ; 
I've admired it oft in the summer time, 

And now th' autumnal hue. 
Spread o'er each tree, and plant, and flower, 

Portrays a richer scene. 
Than when Nature smiled her loving smiles, 

Arrayed in robes of green. 

Far in the distance waves a wood, 

While nearer we behold 
Proud, "undulating, fertile fields, 

Of purest, richest mould. 
Some, autumn's sober robes have donn'd ; 

While some in verdure glow ; 
Like to a ray of hope upon 

Submission's placid brow. 
32 



AUTUMNAL MUSINGS. 33 

I know not why, but these autumn days 

Make me sadder now than wont, 
And phantom forms of perished joys 

My soul's deep recess haunt. 
I used to love their drap'ry rich, 

And joy in their gorgeous dies ; 
As they hung like richest tapestry 

'Neath an Indian Summer's skies. 

For I knew that summer again would come, 

With em'rald robes so bright ; 
And we'd all forget the robes she wore 

'Neath th' hoar frost's icy blight. 
She will come again to some, I know. 

But it may not be to me ; 
And the solemn thoughts that pervade my soul 

A warning of this may be. 

Hast ordained it thus, omniscient One? 

Shall my life-cord soon be riven ? 
Then let Thy sov'reign will be done 

On earth as it is in heaven ! 
Yet ere in its eternal home 

My soul shall with rapture glow, 
Mayst Thou, great Censor, approving scan 

My mission fulfill'd below ! 



THE OLD CHESTNUT-TREE. 

STANZAS INSCRIBED TO MY FRIENDS AT WOOD LAWN, 
MONTGOMERY COUNTY, PA. 



When" first I knew tliee, ancient tree, 
Like to an islet in the sea 

Thou stoodst all alone ; 
Swaying thy sturdy banches there, 
Freely within th' ambient air, 
As sways his sceptre some proud heir 

Unto a regal throne. 

Time passed ; and in the years agone, 

Upon thy verdant, sloping lawn, 

A habitation 'rose ; 

Then, in their turn, exotics grew ; 

With care transplanted for their hue 

Of emerald, retained through 

Stern winter's storms and snows. 
34 



THE OLD CHESTNUT-TREE. S5 

Yet all unconscious thou hast stood — 
Proud relic of the ancient wood 

Of our immortal Penn ; 
Unconscious of thy rivals 'round, 
In silent majesty profound, 
Peerless, undaunted still, thou'rt found 

Among the haunts of men. 

And well thou mayst — in thee we see 
Both beauty and utility 

Judiciously combined ; 
The Schuylkill, laving at thy base. 
Fills not more faithfully its place, 
Uniting sturdy strength with grace, 

To benefit mankind. 

Though oft we see thee brown and sere, 
Grave sentinel, an object dear 

To me thou'st e'er been known ; 
Warm hearts are beating 'neath thy shade, 
Warm hearts and true ; and there have played 
Children whose little lives have shed 

Bright sunshine o'er my own. 

Long may the loved ones clustered there, 
And kept by the protecting care 



36 THE OLD CHESTNUT-TREE. 

Of a blest HaPid divine, 
As many joj^s and pleasures know 
Within their constant breasts to glow, 
And ever in their life-path flow^. 

As they have strewn on mine. 

And long may'st thou, my aged friend, 
With arms still seeming to extend 

A welcome unto me. 
And all who to thy shades are drawn, 
As in the halcyon days agone, 
Stand, monarch of that wooded lawn — 

Time-honored chestnut-tree. 



LET ME DIE AT HOME. 



Some say that the fittest time to die 

Is, when fading leaves are strewn 
In beauty 'neath the arching sky, 

By the gusts of Autumn blown ; 
But I care not whether Spring flowers gay, 

Or Summer's blossoms bloom 
Around the freshly-moulded clay. 

That forms my new-made tomb. 
I care not whether th' Autumn's blast, 

Or th' angry Winter storm. 
Shall moan above the narrow house 

That holds my clay-cold form. 
I only ask, when relentless Death 

With his fatal dart shall come. 

And bid me yield my fleeting breath, 

That I may die at home. 
4 37 



88 LET ME DIE AT HOME. 

For sure 'twould be sweeter far to die 

With loved ones 'round my bed ; 
Where the glistening tear in affection's eye, 

In silent grief is shed. 
Where a true friend's hand shall press my brow 

Or a familiar form 
Shall mark my struggling spirit bow 

Before Death's gathering storm; 
Where my last, faltering accents fall 

On each attentive ear, 
And the words I breathe are heard by all 

Who will hold their mem'ry dear. 
Ah, yes ! methinks at whatever hour 

Death's mandate sure might come, 
'Twould lessen its o'erwhelming power, 

If I could die at home. 

When my freed soul shall wing its way 

To the mansions of the blest, 
I would not have the stranger pray 

For that soul's eternal rest. 
I would not have the stranger heap 

The clods above my grave — 
■ Such a tomb may serve for those who sleep 

Like th' patriot warrior brave. 



LET ME DIE AT HOME. 39 

Bat when within its narrow bed 

My lifeless form is laid, 
Let friendship's gentle tears be shed — • 

By her hands let my grave be made. 
God grant that whatever my fate may be, 

'Mid whatever scenes I roam. 
When my soul shall pass to eternity, 

That I may die at home. 



SBAECII THE SCPJPTURES. 

*' Search the Scriptures ; for in them ye think ye have eternal 
life: And they are they which testify of me." — John v. 39. 



Yes, search them through ! if ye would know 

The gems of holy truth, 
Revealed upon each sacred page 

To guide the path of youth ; 
Or of the comfort which they give 

To the desponding soul, 
When sorrow's overwhelming waves, 

Upon our pathway roll. 

Ages have passed since God to man 

This precious volume gave ; 
Designed to show tlie wondrous plan, 

Erom sin our race to save ; 
And oft the skeptic proud has dar'd 

Its records to deny, 

And spoken scornfully of all 

The truths that in it lie. 
40 



SEARCH THE SCRIPTURES. 41 

But as the diamond, which, conceal'd 

Far from each solar ray, 
More brightly shines when 'tis reveal'd 

Amid the light of day ; 
So truth, though falsely crushed to earth 

By proud, presuming men, 
Eises with more intrinsic worth 

Unto her sphere again. 

And Christ, the Holy, and the Just, 

The Saviour of mankind, 
When veiled in mortal flesh below, 

Their value thus defined : — 
" Employ them not in useless strife ! 

But search them through !" said he ; 
'' In them ye have eternal life ; 

They testify of me." 

Of Him, the meek and lowly One, 

The Son and Sent of God ; 
Who, for the sins of all mankind. 

This vale of sorrow trod ; 
What nobler theme to contemplate, 

E'en for the worldly-wise. 

Than Him, the Almighty Potentate, 

The Sov'reign of the Skies ? 
4* 



42 SEARCH THE SCRIPTURES. 

JSTone I and subliiiier, purer thoughts, 

You'll seek in vain to find, 
Than are within this holj Book 

Profusedly combined ! 
Then search them through ! for unto us 

This treasure has l3een given, 
To guide our wayward, wand'ring souls 

Into the gates of Heaven. 



THE THUNDER STORM. 



Lo ! from yon low'ring ebon cloud 
Comes forth the lightning's gleam ! 

While Thunder's notes reverberate 
O'er valley, hill, and stream. 

Near and more near the clouds approach, 
More stunning is the sound ; 

While patt'ring rain-drops thickly fall, 
Like glittering pearls around. 

I love to gaze on scenes like this, 
Scenes so sublime and grand ; 

And mark the skill and power divine 
Of an Almighty hand. 

But why, within the doubting heart, 

Do fears so oft arise. 

When viewing grandeur like to this, 

Within the raging skies ? 
43 



44 THE THUNDER STORM. 

'Tis true that danger seems more near 

In such an hour as this ; 
And proves to man there reigns above, 

A Power more great than his. 

But yet, that overruling Power 

Protection can bestow, 
The same amid the storm or cahn, 

On mortals here below. 

We're ever at His merc}^ plac'd, 
He guards each vessel frail ; 

Whether the sunlight gems life's waves, 
Or rudest winds assail. 

The storm has ceased ! Upon yon cloud 
The rainbow bright appears ! 

And we amid these calmer scenes 
Foroet our recent fears ! 

o 

Father ! Oh, help us all to feel, 

In ev'ry stage of life, 
Thy awful power, as when we mark 

Thy elements in strife 1 



THE THUNDER STORM. 45 

And guide our actions, that we may 

'Mid all the storms of earth, 
Look forth in faith to see Thee place 

Thj " bow of promise " forth I 



PERPETUAL BLOOM. 

THOUGHTS ON SEEING A ROSE-TREE BLOOMING DURING 
A SNOW STORM. 

I SAW it blooming 'mid the snow ; 

Each bright and beauteous bud, 
So fair and fragile in its form, 

The howling blast withstood; 
And seemed to smile, calm and serene, 

Although the low'ring cloud 
Had veiled its taper leaves of green 

Beneath a snowy shroud. 

And as I gazed, I thought — how like 

Life's landscape this appears ; 
When ceaseless bloom Hope's blossoms bright, 

'Neath clouds of doubts and fears. 
"When desolation's chilling snows 

Would shroud the throbbing heart, 
Amid the storm each blossom blows, 

And bids the clouds depart. 
46 



PERPETUAL BLOOM. 47 

Mav He who hath ordained it thus. 



Still will it thus to be ; 
Till Life's uncertain streamlet glides 

Into Eternity ! 
And may Hope's blossoms, thus prepared, 

In realms beyond the tomb, 
Freed from earth's blighting frosts and snows, 

Enjoy perpetual bloom I 



HOLD ONI 



Col. Crockett, renowned, very wisely bath said 
To his comrades in Life's valiant fight — ■ 

" Don't loiter alons;! — 2^0 ahead ! — "o ahead ! 
But always be sure that you're right !" 

And metbinks that this motto so wise, might as well, 

By another cognomen be known ; 
Though cant, brief, and homely — wise counsel it 
gives — ■ 

In the plain, simple language — " Hold on !" 

Hold on to your heads when they'd nod their assent 
To what your hearts cannot approve; 

Hold on to your tongues when they'd dare to defame 
The neighbor whom God bids you love ! 

Hold on to your principles — firmly hold on ! 

When conscience declares that you're right, 

Though legions of foes from witliin and without, 

Summon forth to a desperate fight. 
48 



HOLD on! 49 

Hold on to your feet when they'd lead you toward 
The grog-shop, or gambler's dark den ; 

Hold on! — and thus by an example so firm, 
Shield from error your weak fellow-men ! 

Hold on to your purse-strings when they would 
unclasp, 
To foolishly squander your store ! 
Hold on to your hands when such deeds they'd per- 
form, 
As would bring you remorse, evermore ! 

Hold on to your hearts, young ladies, hold on ! 

Don't love a moustache with such pains, 
Till you feel quite assured the appendage has not 

Been donn'd to conceal lack of brains. 

Plokl on, also, young gents, hold on to your hearts! 

Till you're sure that the beauties you prize. 
Are not only sustain'd in their freshness and youth (?) 

By the aid of Parisian dyes. 

Ay ! when error aiid sin and temptation assail, 

More than half of the conflict is won. 
If our banner this motto unfurl to the gale — 

Be not over-hasty — Hold on ! 



THEY SLUiMBER HERE. 

THOUGHTS SUGGESTED DURING A VISIT TO THE BURIAL 
PLACE OF DEPARTED RELATIVES. 



Tread liglitl j ! This is sacred ground ! 

The sainted dead are here ! 
Pass softly by each grassy mound 

That holds their relics dear. 
Each little hillock robed in green, 

Awakes, within my heart, 
The latent powers of memory, 

As with a magic art. 

Why pause I here above this grave, 

AYith feelings sad and lone ? 
A mother's forn:i lies buried here, 

Whose soul to God has flown; 
While by her side, my honor'd sire 

In Death's embrace lies low, 
No more to share the common lot 

Of mortals here below. 
50 



THEY SLUMBER ilEKE. 51 

That grassy mound, apart from these, 

III silence lone, contains, 
Eeposing in a dreamless sleep, 

A grandsire's loved remains. 
And one I loved in childhood's years, 

Eests here, beneath this sod ; 
Tn manhood's prime, his ransom'd soul 

Was summoned home to God. 

While here, beneath this plain, white stone. 

There rests, in sweet repose, 
The form of one who ec\r]y left 

This scene of mortal woes ; 
She stood beside a manly form, 

A happy, trusting bride ; 
A twelvemonth lived to glad his home — 

Her first-born blessed — and died. 

Fond mem'ry bids me linger now, 

Above another tomb. 
And muse upon the lovely clay 

Eeposing 'mid its gloom. 
My sister-friend, so early called 

To slumber with thy God, 
Permit me now to sadly muse 

Above thy covering sod. 



52 THEY SLUMBER HERE. 

Tbou wast the last of this loved band 



God samrnon'd to the skies ; 
Hence, fresher in my memory, 

Fond thoughts of thee arise, 
I see thee as I saw thee, when, 

Upon that mournful day, 
In speechless grief, we hung above 

Thy pale and lifeless clay. 

I see thy glossy ebon hair 

Smoothed o'er thy marble brow, 
Which, though the sun of life had set, 

Was beauteous, even now. 
I see tbose death-dimmed orbs of thine, 

Once lit by love most true, 
Yeiled by those lids whose fringe caressed 

Thy cheeks of ashen hue. 

And then I ask why one so fair, 

So lovely and beloved. 
Should from these transient earthly scenes 

So early be removed ? 
It may be long ere I again, 

Unto these haunts may come ; 
For duty calls me far away, 

'Mid other scenes to roam. 



THEY SLUMBER HERE. 53 

Bat, wheresoever I may be, 

Whatever fate attend, 
ni muse upon the spot where rests 

Each fondly cherished friend. 
And Heaven grant, that when this heart 

Hath ceased Life's busy strife, 
I'll slumber in the arms of death, 

With those I loved in life. 

5* 



HOME THOUGHTS. 



CRYSTAL SPRING, PA. 



Seated by the open casement, 

Fanned by pure and babiiy air, 
Gaze I on tlie distant landscape, 

Fraught with beauty, rich and rare; 
Mark the clear and placid river 

Flowing onward toward the sea. 
While the varied tints of Autumn 

Blend in lovely harmony. 

And, anon, the locomotive, 

Bearing forth its pond'rous load, 
Like a livino- thinsj of action, 

Thunders on the iron road. 
While aloft, the magic wire, 

Gleaming in the sunshine bright, 
Carries th' electric fluid, 

Morse's genius taught to write. 
54 



HOME THOUGHTS. 55 

Now my restless musings wander 

To the days of long ago ; 
When yon river's sparkling wavelets 

Bore the Indian's canoe. 
When the Indian maid her mirror 

Sought beside that crystal stream ; 
Or, beneath the forest shelter, 

Oft indulged in " Love's young dream." 

And, thougli fervently my bosom 

Glows with patriotic pride, 
At my country's growth and greatness, 

Kow extending far and wide ; 
Yet, 'mid her primeval beauty 

Busy Fancy loves to roam. 
With the noble-hearted red man, 

In his ancient forest-home. 

Ere the unrelenting " pale-face " 

Had invaded his domains. 
And he dwelt, in savage freedom, 

'Mid our valleys, hills, and plains, 
Ere the poisonous " fire-water " 

To his wigwam had been brought, 
By his ""more enlightened^'' brother, 

Yf ho his final ruin sought. 



56 HOME THOUGHTS. 

And, when musino^ o'er the chani>;es 

Which Progression's hand hath traced, 
In my mind the thought arises — 

Will these scenes e'er be effaced ? 
Will this present age of wonders, 

Judged by wiser heads than ours, 
Vanish, 'neath the mighty conquest 

Of proud Genius' magic powers ? 

» Vain the task to solve tlie problem — 

Future ages only can ; 
" Let us then be up and doing," 

Working out Progression's plan ! 
But whatever be accomplished 

In the ages yet to come, 
May Columbia e'er, and justly. 

Boast herself fair Freedom's home ! 



OUE SUNBEAM. 



Ev'ky boLiseliold hath its sunbeam! 

And, thank Heaven, Ave have <3Lirs; 
AVooing, into life and beauty, 

'Mid earth's brambles, sweetest flowers. 
Not a sunbeam from the golden 

Orb of day 'tis ours to share. 
But a little cherub sunbeam. 

Shedding gladness, everywhere. 
Such a sunbeam as the Father, 

In His goodness, doth bestow ; 
Lest His children, overladen. 

Weary of life's conflict grow. 

In and out, with ceaseless patter, 

Run the tiny little feet; 
Tears and smiles of their possessor 

Alternating moments fleet. 

57 



58 OUK SUNBEAM. 

Asking questions almost countless, 

With a pretty, arch resolve; 
Questions that 'twould ofttirnes puzzh 

A philosopher to solve. 
Grateful are we For such sunbeams, 

Lighting this, our earthly way — 
Heaven bless their future life-course- 

Heaven bless them all for aye. 



OUR SHADOW. 



Ev'ry household hath its shadow ! 

And, alas ! to ours have come 
Shadows deep'ning, wid'niiig, broad'ning, 

To the portals of the tomb ! 
Once a gem of rarest value 

In a fragile casket lay — 
A pure spirit plum'd for Heaven, 

Scatt'ring o'er life's rugged way 
Blossoms of such varied beauty, 

Pearls of such intrinsic worth. 
That its Heaven-appointed mission, 

All too holy seemed for earth. 

And the Spoiler came and scourged it, 
Marred its beauties, hour by hour ; 

Till that fair and fragile casket 
Prostrate lay beneath his power. 

Then it was the shadow broadened 

Here beneath our homestead tree ; 
59 



60 OUR SHADOW. 

From a liglit, to us extinguislied, 

Bright'iiing in Eternity. 
May that light, that angel pharos, 

Guide our storm-tossed barques to shore 
Where the sunshine knows no shadow, 

Where the darkness comes no more. 



THE ROOM WHERE LOVED ONES DIE. 



We open it in sadness, and we close it with a sigh, 
The door that guards the entrance of the room where 
loved ones die. 

The softly-sighing zephyrs float through that dark- 
ened room, 
On pinions richly laden with delicate perfume; 

The drowsy bees are humming around it all the day. 
And feathered songsters warbling, as they flit from 
spray to spray ; 

All nature seems inviting to scenes of festive joy, 
To pleasures all unmingled with aught of an alloy ; 

Yet we open it in silence, and we close it with a sigh. 
The door that guards the entrance of the room where 
loved ones die. 
6 61 



62 THE EOOM WIIEEE LOVED ONES DIE. 

There the last word was spoken ; there the unsteady 

breatli 
Gave token of the presence of the gliastly king — • 

stern Death. 

The hand we clasped relaxing its slight and slighter 

hold, 
First powerless grew, then pulseless, then- stiff" and 

icy cold ; 

« 

The heart was stilled — the features grew placidly 

serene, 
And the form we fondly cherished told but of wdiat 

had been. 

Such the associations that follow in their train, 
As wdth melancholy pleasure we recount them o'er 
again ; 

As we open it in sadness, and close it with a sigh — 
The door that guards the entrance of the room where 
loved ones die. 



HEAVENLY TEEASURES. 



Treasukes in the heavenly kingdom — 
A triumphant seraph band — 

At the mandate of the Father, 
In His holy presence stand ; 

How they draw us ! How they draw us ! 
Treasures in that heavenly land. 

How their subtle power magnetic 
Breaks the charms of earth away ! 

How their language, most prophetic, 
Tells us of our swift decay ! 

How they warn us ! How they warn us ! 
Bidding us to watch and pray. 

Father, gathering in thy Kingdom 
Thus our treasures, one by one. 

Some 'mid shadows of life's twilight. 
Others ere their transient sun 

Reached its zenith, reached its zenith, 
Life's brief journey scarce begun, 
63 



64: HEAVENLY TREASURES. 

Help us, wise and holy Father, 
To reo-aiii those treasures there, 

By a life of love and duty, 

Faith, and hope, and earnest prayer ! 

Help us gain them ! Help us gain them, 
Where tried virtue knows no snare 1 



LET JEHOVAH JUDGE. 



Immortal toilers in life's harvest-field, 
Binding the ripen'd grain its soil doth yield ; 
Ye who your soul's tribunal daily scan, 
And seek the duty due from man to man ; 
Deal not too harshly with that stricken one 
To whom hath set Hope's bright, alluring sun ! 
Gaze not too coldly on that care-worn brow ! 
Ye know not of the grief that lies below. 

For, could ye trace the records of the Past, 
The shadows dark which o'er that heart they've cast ; 
Could ye behold the penitential teai's 
In secret shed, 'mid hopes, and doubts, and fears ; 
Discern the causes for each trace of care. 
That time-worn countenance doth sadly bear ; 
Ye could not coldly gaze upon that brow, 
When ye beheld the grief that lies below. 
6* 65 



QQ LET JEHOVAH JUDGE. 

Percliancc some clierished friends, in Life's gay morn, 
Were from tliat fond heart's tendrils rudely torn ; 
Perchance around it Love's deceitful chain 
In some unguarded hour, was bound in vain ; 
Or from Eeligion's calm and placid ray, 
Perchance the Tempter led it far astray ; 
Then gaze not coldly on that care-worn brow ! 
Ye know not of the grief that lies below. 

For, thus may its most cherished joys have flown, 
Before their fragile blossoms yet were blown ; 
Thus unrelenting Fortune may have frowned. 
Shedding her blighting influence around ; 
Then leave to God that sad and stricken heart — 
For He alone can sov'reign grace impart — • 
And gaze not coldly on that care-worn brow I 
Ye know not of the grief that lies below 



CAST THY BREAD UPON THE AYATEES. 

" Cast thy bread upon the waters : for thou shalt find it after 
many days." — Ecdesiasties xi. 1. 



" Cast thy bread upon the waters " — 

Pilgrim on life's thorny maze! 
Cast it forth ! and thou wilt find it — - 

Find it after many days ! 
Look above, beneath, around thee ! 

Yiew the heavenly blessings strewn ! 
Teaching thee the noble lesson — 

Live not for thyself alone I 

" Cast thy bread upon the waters," 
Soldier on Life's battle-plain ! 

Cast it forth ! in faith believing 
'Twill return to thee as-ain ! 

o 

He the boon of life deserves not, 

Who but for the present lives ; 

Failing to improve each moment 

God in His great goodness gives. 
67 



68 ' CAST THY BREAD UPON THE WATERS. 

" Cast thy bread upon the waters !" 

Freely it is given thee ; — 
Cast it forth ! and thou wilt find it, 

Find it in Eternity. 
Though thou never mayst behold it 

In thy pilgrimage on earth ; 
Heaven retains it to reward thee — ■ 

Faithful, fearless, cast it forth ! 



DYING EMBERS. 



Have ye ever watclied the embers, 

As they one b}- one depart — 
Not upon a cheerful hearth-stone, 

But, within an aching heart ? 
Have ye marked the fitful flashes 

Darted forth ere life was o'er, 
Till the dall and pallid ashes 

Told you that they lived no more? 

Dying embers on a hearth -stone 

Is a cheerful sight to view ; 
But the heart's consuming embers 

Have for all a sombre hue. 
Hearthstone fires may be replenished 

And rekindled in their turn ; 
For, unchanging laws in nature 
Bid them cheerily to burn. 
69 



70 DYIXG EMBERS. 

But it was the heart's affections 

Lighted first the embers there ; 
Only doomed to pale and glimmer 

By repulsion's lurid glare. 
All in vain they flash and lighten, 

Liven'd by hope's cheering ray ; 
For, at last, that ray's extinguished; 

And they slowly die away. 

Wear}^ mortals, in whose bosoms 

Your heart's embers thus have died, 
Be not fearful ! Be not foithless ! 

Souls must thus be purified. 
And, for you those ashen embers 

Will rekindled be above ; 
Burning, with a flame undying. 

In the realms of endless love. 



LANDSCAPES OF LIFE. 

WRITTEN ON NEW YEAR'S EVE, 1859. 



To-xiGHT the Old Year dietli ! 

All day the restless earth, rob'd in the snowy shroud 

That winter gives, has silently received 

l^he crystal tear-drops Nature seems to shed 

O'er his departure. Even now, methinks, 

His fun'ral knell is rung by angel bands, 

AVho mark the flowing of the tide of time. 

And, W'hen the last faint echo dies away 

Upon the midnight air, th' merry birthday bells 

Will ring a welcome to the new-born year. 

AYrapp'd in the visions of the buried past, 

Almost unconscious of surrounding scenes, 

My spirit's eye hath roam'd far, far away 

Into the lapse of by-gone years. While mem'ry 

With magic touch, portrays, in colors bright, 

Landscapes of life, whose outlines faint, old Time 

Has traced. 

71 



72 LANDSCAPES OF LIFE. 

'Tis but a panorauiic view 
Slie gives ; out oh, what 'membrance of past jojs, 
Wb.at sliadcs of grief, thej to m}^ vision bring! 

First, 'mid those pictures bright, methinks I see 
A cherish'd form my infant lips address'd 
By the fond name of mother. Th' purest joys 
My heart have ever thrill'd, were felt when . 
In th' sunshine of her smile ; while the warm kiss 
Imprinted on my cheek spoke love unfeign'd. 
Such love, methinks, I never more may know, 
Until this throbbing breast hath pulseless grown. 
For, 'mid that 'raptur'd bliss the reaper — Death — 
Bore her away among the priceless sheaves 
The Father had declar'd fit for His garner. 
They told me she had gone from earth for aye ; 
And though to childhood's view it seem'd a dream, 
Its stern realities I since have felt — • 
An aching void Avithin my heart, no form 
Bat hers can,.fill, 'tis mine to know e'en now. 

Tliat landscape bright, with all its leafy groves, 
Its fragrant flowers and tesselated green, 
Now fades away ; and then another greets 
My mental view. In this I recognize. 
Beside my honor'd sire, the form of one 
Who, I was told, had come to take the place 



LANDSCAPES OF LIFE. 73 

My bright " earth-star " had left. They told me 
I must call her mother, too. I loved her well ; 
For she was good and kind. But yet, methouglit, 
The love she bore to me was not so pure, 
So deep, so fraught with nature's promptings, 
As that of her who unto God had gone. 
I gaze upon the scene ! and, as I gaze, 
The sable hearse, the coffin, and the shroud. 
Arise before me. While he, the guardian 
Of my infant years, in manhood's prime. 
Bows low beneath the icy touch of death, 
And hastes to join his sainted partner 
In the realms of bliss. 

'Mid all these scenes. 
In buoyancy of youth, fair, childish forms 
Before me flit. Most prominent 'mong these. 
Is one, a dark-eyed child, with ebon hair, 
And her fair, blue-eyed sister. Hand in hand 
We roam'd o'er hill and vale to cull spring- flowers; 
In long, bright summer clays we gleeful play'd 
Beside the babbling brook ; or sported with 
The snowy robes of earth when winter ruled 
The year. 

The hours of girlhood came ; but yet 
With hands unclasped, we trod life's path- way. 



74 LANDSCAPES OF LIFE. 

Our dark-ejcd one before the altar stood — • 
I stood beside her there ; saw the small hand 
Kestiiig confidinglj in that of him 
Her woman's heart had chosen. I heard 
Those coral lips the promise breathe — to love 
Till death should sever ; and as she turn'd away, 
Bright flowers seem'd strewn about her joyous path. 
Rich blessings from the E'ather's hand were hers ; 
Yet, while the tendrils of our loving hearts 
Clasped still more closely round that fragile form. 
The yawning tomb received her lifeless clay. 

Appalled we stood and gazed upon the wreck 
Death's hand had wrought ; and then, with aching 

hearts 
And tearful eyes turn'd unto Him who gave. 
And said : " Thy will be done !'' 

And thus, e'er since 
Upon life's stream my fragile barque was launched, 
Have those I lov'd the best been borne away 
By some resistless current. Yet hath my course 
Been fraught with blessings rife. True friends are 

mine — • 
Friends, luorthy of the name, cheering me onward 
Toward th' eternal port. And though life's land- 
scapes 



LANDSCAPES OF LIFE. 75 

Mi2;lit have been more brioht — tlioLi2;!i in this brief 

review 
Ai'ise regrets for duties unperformed, 
For moments unimproved ; I thank my God 
That His protecting care thus far hath kept 
My wayward, wancVring feet from error's path, 
And made me what I am. I thank Him 
For the blessings that are mine ; and pray 
That He may be my gracious Pilot still, 
'Mid all life's storms. And when, at last, my barque, 
Become too frail to longer cope with breakers, 
Lies wrecked amid the shoals, may His 
Redeeming love in safety guide 
Its clay-freed tenant to the port of peace I 



HOW SHALL WE KNOW THEM THEKE? 

" It doth not yet appear -what we shall be : but we know that, 
when he shall appear, we shall be like him ; for we shall see him 
as he is." — 1 John iii. 2. 



When these cbaiisfins; eartli-scenes vanish from before 

the glazing eye, 
AVhen these fragile forms shall languish and with the 

cold earth-worm lie, 
A¥hen the never-dying spirit seeks the mansions of 

the blest, 
Freed from earth-stains to inherit God's eternal, 

promised rest, 
When the loved ones, called before us, greet us in 

those mansions fair 
With glad strains of sweetest welcome, how shall we 

discern them there ? 
7G 



HOW SHALL WE KNOW THEM THERE ? 77 

Will it be the form, tlie feature ? Will it be the 

speaking eye ? 
Such endowments of the creature all too early fade 

and die ! 
Only to the soul immortal when life's silver cord is 

riven, 
Entrance to those blissful portals was the sacred 

primiise given. 
Sown in nature and in weakness, raised in spiritual 

power. 
Flesh and blood may not inherit ecstacies of that 

bright hour. 

Says the evangelic writer — It hath not as yet been 

shown * 

What we sliall be when we enter those blest realms 

to us unknown ; 
But we know when He appeai-eth to our sight no 

longer dim. 
Clothed in Ilis majestic beauty, we shall be like unto 

Him. 
Sacred privilege, to be like Him — Him so spotless 

and so pure ; 
Who for hufiian woes and frailties keenest suflf'ring 

did endure. 



78 HOW SHALL WE KNOW THEM THERE ? 

Ilappj thej who their affections base on spiritual 
worth, 

AYho, when the cleath-angel grants us freedom from 
the dross of earth, 

And shall come that soul re-union pledged in the 
eternal sphere. 

Shall not miss one grace nor beauty we have loved 
and cherished here ! 

Happy they ! For moth, corruption ne'er their trea- 
sures can destroy — 

Grant us Lord of earth and Heaven such a source of 
hope and joy. 



'TIS HOME WHERE THE HEART IS. 



'"Tis home where the heart is!" — thus saith the 

poem — • 
" 'Tis home where the heart is, wherever we roam ! 
'Mid scenes of coiifasion, 'mid pleasure or pain, 
In Sorrow's dark labyrinth — Fashion's gay train — ■ 
Whatever fond wishes our bosoms enfold — • 
If our search be for honor, for fame, or for gold — • 
Through whatever changes in life we may roam, 
Wherever our hearts are — there — there is our 

home I" 

Ask the fair child, as, in innocent glee 

He roams through the forest glades, careless and 

free. 
Or, sports in his gladness 'neath Heaven's high 

dome, 
This soul-stirring inquiry ! — Where is thy home ? 



80 TIS HOME WHERE THE HEART IS. 

He will point in reply to some pleasant retreat, 
Where the friends of his childhood in harmony 

meet ; 
While, forth from his ruby lips, sweetly doth come 
The words — " Where my mother is — there is my 

home !" 

Ask the young wife as she stands by the side 
Of him she has chosen her frail barque to guide ; 
To whom she has breathed the fond accents of love, 
Which, though spoken on earth, are recorded above ; 
With a sweet, trusting smile she will quickly 

reply. 
While a glance of sincerity beams from her eye 
" Through whatever scenes my loved husband may 

roam, 
Whatever his lot may be, that is nw home !" 

Ask the fond mother whose kindness and love 
Are training her offspring for regions above ! 
Ask her her home, her heart's empire to show ! 
She will answer — " Wherever those loved ones may 

go; 

In whatever station their lots may be cast. 

In my hopes for the future, my joys for the past; 



. 'tis home where the heart is. 81 

Amid whatever scenes those loved beings may 

roam, 
With them will my heart be — with them is my 

home !" 

Go ask the faithful instructor of youth, 

As he guides, iu the paths of fair science and 

truth, 
Those beings, whose actions, for good or for ill. 
Depend for success on his wisdom and skill ! 
In reply he will say — " 'Tis witliin Learning's 

halls, 
Where the stern voice of duty impressively calls, 
And points to where genius and talents have come, 
Awaiting my counsel — there, there is my home !" 

Go ask the seaman, who, o'er the blue sea. 
Guides his proud vessel, swift, gallant, and free ! 
Say to him, when, safe on shore he has come — • 
Tell me, brave mariner! where is thy home ? 
In reply he will point you to old Ocean's wave. 
Whose wild, stormy surges the sandy shores lave ; 
And say — " Where the billows cast high their white 

foam, 
Where my ship rides in majesty, there is my home !" 



82 'tis H0\[E WHhJRE THI*: HEART IS. 

Go ask the warrior, fearless and bold, 
Who pi"izes Fame's laurels more highly than gold! 
He'll direct _you to where, on the wide battle-plain, 
'Mid the groans of tlie dying his comrades are slain ; 
To where the wild war-trumpet sounds its alarms, 
'Mid the roaring of cannon, the clashing of arms; 
Where dangers are thickest, where dire perils come; 
Within the broad battle-field — there is his home ! 

Go ask the Christian, who, 'mid toil and care, 
Humbly the cross of his Saviour doth bear! 
In true faith he'll reply — " In the regions of rest — • 
Those fair, happy regions, the realms of the blest — 
AVhere bright-pinioned angels, where saints robed 

in white. 
Sing praises unceasing by day and by night; 
Where no sin, nor temptation, nor sorrow may come, 
'Tis there that my heart is, yes, there is my home !" 

Hath ni}^ poem a moral with sentiments true ? 
Or sketched in bright Fancy's bewildering hue ? 
Are we not daily taught by each station in life — 
Tyy the mother, the sister, the daughter, the wife, 
By the warrior, seaman, or teacher so true. 
That our hearts must be with us in all that we do ? 



'tis home where the heakt is. 83 

Then, like the meek Christian whose home is above, 
In the mansions of purity, goodness, and love : 
'Mid whatever temptations or trials we roam, 
In that land let oar hearts be ! — let that world be 
oar home I 



WITHOUT AN ENEMY. 



Mortal, when life's scenes are ended, 

When its arduous toils are o'er, 
When the 'fi'anchised spirit gladly 

Anchors on the star-gemm'd shore; 
Wouldst thou, while thy friends are moui'uing 

Over all earth claims of thee, 
Have inscribed upon thy tomb-stone — 

Died without an enemy ? 

Oft we hear it, when the stricken 

Sorrow o'er the silent bier ; 
And perform the last sad duty 

Due to tliose they cherished here. 
'Tis aftection's voice that prompts it. 

And we would not harshly chide ; 
Though to claim such reputation 

^liglit not be our aim and pride. 
84 



WITHOUT AN" E^fEMY. 85 



He who hath a soid within him, 

He who doth perform his part, 
Evjer fliithful, ever fearless, 

In the world's exciting mart, 
Must have enemies ; the craven, 

Coward opposers of the right 
Are the foes of all enlistino- 

Boldly in Truth's earnest fight. 

One who trod the purest life-path 

Ever trodden here on earth ; 
One who through a death triumphant 

Gave to man his second birth ; 
Even He^ the God incarnate, 

Veil'd in mortal flesh to know 
All the griefs of erring mortals. 

Had His enemies, below. 

For, say those who trace His records, 

" In the agonies of death, 
Hanging with the malefactors, 

Ere He yielded up His breath ; 
By His friends denied, forsaken. 

By His enemies betray'd ; 

E'en amid these throes of anguish, 

For those enemies He pray'd." 
8 



86 WITHOUT AN ENEMY. 

Wouldst thou then, aspiring mortal, 

Die without an enemy ? 
Rather pray thy earthly life-course 

Like thy Master's may be free 
Erom all error ; ever striving 

Earnestly against the wrong; 
And defending the defenceless, 

When they're injui-'d by the strong. 

Then, though enemies suri'ound thee, 

Ever seeking to betray ; 
Trustins; in the crown'd Redeemer, 

Falter not upon thy way ! 
But, like Him be ever prajdng. 

With a fervent heart and true — 
Father, grant them Thy forgiveness 1 

For they know not what they do ! 



THE FEOST UPON THE PANE. 



The golden sun Las risen — all nature seems to wake, 
And from night's gloomy prison her morning beams 

to take ; 
Our planet, clad in beauty, upon its course doth roll, 
To waken thoughts of duty within the grateful 

soul ; — ■ 
While o'er the fair creation steals Winter's icy train, 
I gaze with admiration at the frost npon the pane. 

Eomantic scenes I'm weaving in that bright fairy- 

■ land, 

And scarce the while believing they're wrought by 

Fancy's hand; 

They tell of days departed, of joys no more to come. 

When, gay and joyous-hearted, within my childhood's 

home, 

87 



88 THE FROST UPON THE PANE. 

I traced those iigures airj and conn'd them o'er again, 
And thought some graeefal fairy had wrought them 
on the pane. 



One morning, I remember, among the days gone-by. 
One morn in cold December beneath a ch)udless sky, 
Awak'd from childhood's slumber, from out my 

trundle-bed, 
I rose, and to my Maker my morning prayer said ; 
Then, turning to the window that brought day's 

beams again, 
I there beheld with rapture the frost upon the pane. 



In childish admiration my loving sire I sought, 

And asked an explanation of what had there been 
wrought ; 

He fondly smiled upon me and strove, in accents 
kind, 

To fashion proud philosophy to suit my infant mind ; 

I listened with intense delight — I could not long re- 
main 

In ignorance of that fair sight — the frost upon the 
pane. 



THE FROST UPON THE PANE. 89 

My soLil with zealous ardor and interest did glow ; 
The truth — I could not doubt it ! for father said Uicas 

so: 
Still di(^ my busy foncy paint images most fair, 
With witching necromancy among the frost-work 

there ; 
For, e'en amid life's duties those scenes I trace again, 
And revel in the beauties of the frost upon the pane. 



REMINISCENCES. 



Mother, I'm thinking of thee now, 

As when, in childho':'crs years. 
Thy kind hand bath'd my youthful brow, 

And dried my childish tears. Dear friend, 
My transient, childish tears. 

It seems a long, long while ago, 

Since that fond touch I felt; 
Or since, to lisp my infant prayer. 

Morning and eve I knelt. Morning and eve 
To breathe my prayer, I knelt. 

For, when too young to know thy worth, 

Death bore thee far away ; 
And left me on this weary earth. 

Without thy care to stray. Helpless and lone 
Without thy care to stray. 
90 



EEMINISCENCES. 91 

And mother, changes sad have come 

Upon my path since then ; 
And I have oft in secret yearned 

For thy h;ved smile again. Have yearned to see 
That kindly, smile again. 

They tell me of a sister's love, 

A brother's gentle poAver ; 
And whisper of fond friendship's ties 

To cheer each lonely hour. Ah, sacred ties, 
To' cheer each lonely hour. 



Yes, these are dear— I prize them all; 

But ne'er can I enshrine 
Within my heart an image like 

That cherished one of thine. No image can 
Usurp the place of thine. 



They say I'm cold — perchance 'tis true : — • 

I would not dare deny ; 
For I have learn'd to check the love 

That in ni}^ heart doth lie. That love, dear one, 
Extends to thee on high ! 



92 REMIiNTISCENCES. 

And to tlie partner of thy cares — 

My father — loved so well — 
Who sooD was called to join thee, where. 

The saints and angels dwell. That happy land, 
AVhere saints and angels dwell. 

And oft, when sad and lonely here, 

I long for unfeigned love, 
I fancy yon, my parents dear. 

Look down from Heaven above. Look down 
And bless your offspring with your love. 

Then I'll not mourn, if here below 

Your spirits guide my way ; 
And lead me through this vale of woe, 

To realms of endless day. Yes, safely guide 
To realms of endless day. 

Enouo;h to know that when on earth 

Life's silver cord is riven — 
The orphan and the motherless 

Will be secure in Heaven. Blest and secure, 
With Jesus Christ in Heaven. 



THE CHILD'S MATIN HYMN. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF LAMARTINE. 



Oh, Father ! whom my sire adores, 
To whom my mother humbly bows; 

Whose name, breathed only on our knees, 
With terror and with sweetness glows. 

'Tis said the bright and glowing sun 
Is but a plaything in Thy sight ; 

That underneath Thy feet 'tis hung, 
Like to a lamp of silver bright. 

'Tis said Thou causeth to be born 
The birds within the fields so gay ; 

And giveth to the little child 

A soul to love Thee day by day. 

'Tis said 'tis Thou who dost produce 

The flowers that in the garden grow ; 

And that without Thee — covetous, 

The orchard would no fruit bestow. 
93 



94 THE child's matin HYMN". 

The bounties wliicli Thy goodness gives, 

To all the Universe are free ; 
No insect is forgot, that lives, 

At this great banquet spread by Thee. 

The lamb doth on the wild thyme graze. 
The goat the cytisus doth love; 

To the urn's edge the little fly 

The white drops of my milk doth move. 

The lark -the bitter grain doth leave, 
And from the gleaner soars above ; 

The sparrow seeks the winnower — • 
The child doth its kind mother love. 

And, if the gifts Thou dost produce. 
We would each day from Thee obtain, 

At morn, at evening and dawn, 

'Tis meet we should pronounce Thy name. 

Oh, God ! although my stamm'ring tongue 
Scarce speaks this name, by angels feared, 

Within the holy choirs above, 
Even a little child is heard. 



95 



Ob, since from far He deigns to bear 
Tbe vows tbat from onr bearts proceed, 

I'll ceaselessly demand of Him 

Tbe beavenlj gifts tbat otbers need. 

My God, give waters to tbe founts 
Give featbers to tbe sparrows small ! 

Give Vool unto tbe little lamb — • 
Cause dew upon tbe pbiins to fall ! 

Give bealtb unto tbe suff'ring sick! 

Bestow upon tbe beggar bread ! 
Freedom unto tbe pris'ner give ! 

Grant sbelter to tbe orpban's bead ! 

Upon tbe sire wbo fears tbe Lord, 

A numerous flimily bestow ! 
Grant grace and wisdom unto me, 

Til at peace my motber e'er may know. 



GONE TO EEST. 



Gone to rest ! these words, how soothing, 

Fall thej on the inoiirner's ear; 
As he bends, in speechless anguish. 

O'er the sad and solemn bier. 

Death has come with his grim visage, 

And his sure unerring dart; 
Stilled the quick pulse, chilled the life-blood, 

Hushed the lately throbbing heart. 

Lowly lies the son and brother, 
Husband, father, neighbor, friend ; 

He has left earth for another 

World, where joj^s uiay never end. 

AVhile, beside his pale form, shrouded. 
Stand the dear ones, loved in life ; 

Gazing on that form beloved. 
That has ceased its mortal strife. 
9o 



GONE TO REST. 97 

And, while musing on the virtues 

Which endeared him unto all, 
Hope seems dying in each bosom. 

Sorrow doth each heart appall. 

But a still, small voice, so cheering, 
Now pervades each throbbing breast ; 

Whispering, in gentle accents, 
He has sweetly gone to rest. 

Stricken mourners, cease your sorrow 1 

Hope and Faith do sweetly say — 
" Wait ye for a brighter morrow ! 

When, in realms of perfect day, 

You may meet the dear departed. 

In the region of the blest ; 
'Mid the gentle and true-hearted. 

Who, with him, have gone to rest." 

9 



DESCRIPTION OF A WINTEE MORNING. 

A RIDE THROUGH HUNTINGDON VALLEY, MONTGOMERY 

COUNTY, PA. Wintten by request, on new year's 

DAY, 1861. 



'TwAS morn — and o'er the vale of Huntingdon, 
Shone forth, unclouded, the bright winter sun ; 
Dame Nature, having doffed her robes of green, 
Clad in a spangled livery was seen ; 
Each object she presented, seemed to cheer. 
And greet with radiant smiles th' infant Year. 
O'er earth, a pure, unsullied sheet of snow 
Concealed the Frost-king's ravages below ; 
While beauteous crystals in the sunlight shone, 
Like glitt'ring icebergs in the polar zone ; 
Each evergreen whose beauty nought could bliglit, 
Clothed in a spotless drapery of white ; 
Relieved by spangled robes of brightest green, 
In soul-entrancing loveliness was seen ; 

98 



DESCEIPTION OF A WINTER MORNING. 99 

Each prancing steed tliat bounded swift along, 
Neio'liino; in concert with the sleia^h bell's sono^, 
Seeni'd all-inspired with tli' enliv'uing mirth 
That ever cheers the denizens of earth ; 
When feath'ry snow-flakes from the clouds de- 
scend, 
And, in one glitt'ring sheet of whiteness blend; 
That morn one year ago, o'er Nature smiled, 
And gladly welcomed her fair, infant child ; 
Who, calmly, yesternight, from earth-life free, 
Launched on th' ocean of Eternity. 
And now, another child to her is born, 
Whose birth we hail on this auspicious morn ; 
A morn as bright, as full of wintry cheer, 
As that which ushered in his brother year. 
Thanks to kind Heaven for such scenes as these ! 
So fraught with beautj^, and so formed to please; 
For, gazing on these splendors, all unsought, 
Which Kature's cunning artist here hath wrought ; 
Oh, who can say stern winter hath no charms, 
When, folding closely in his frost-bound arms 
Each rippling streamlet, shrub, and shady tree, 
Now robb'd of their bright summer livery? 
Each season hath its pleasures, beauties, too; 
In turn unfolded to the ravish'd view ; 



100 DESCRIPTION OF A WINTER MORNING-. 

And He who marks tlieir changes as they roll, 
This lesson teaches to the grateful soul — 
From these, oh, man, from these unchanging laws 
Learn to adore the great, primeval Cause ; 
And while His gifts His love unfolds to view, 
Know that the bounteous Giver loves thee, too. 



reeze 



MY VOCATION. 



Sitting in mj quiet school-room, 
Fann'd by perfurn'cl summer b 

List'ning to the mirthful laughter 
Of the rompers 'ueath yon trees ; 

I am now in soul transported 
'Mongst the merry, joyous train 

Of youth's playmates; and seem living 
Happy school-days o'er again. 

Now the school-bell loudly ringing, 

Calls each pupil to his seat ; 
Ceased the playing and the singing — 

Happy smiles my vision greet. 

Slates and books and maps appearing, 
Now in turn each dear one cries^ 

"Tell me please what means this sentence, - 
Where these winding rivers rise." 
9* 101 



102 MY yOCATIuN 

'Mid a Lost of varied duties. 



Thus each day and hour I move, 
Sometimes irksome, always pleasant, 
In an atmosphere of love ; 

As each one his lesson connincr, 
Claims assistance froni my hand ; 

All the while obeying promptly, 
Cheerfully each just demand. 

Fruit and flowers my desk adorning, 
Scent the balmy summer air ; 

Cull'd by childish hands each mornin< 
Proflfer'd me by young and fair. 

Who will say the teacher's mission 
Is not one of hope and love ? 

Who will say no joys elysian 
Wait him in his home above ? 

Make me, oh, divinest Teacher, 
Faithful in my duties here ! 

Waiting my reward with patience. 
In a higher, purer sphere ! 



LUCK AND PLUCK. 

" What men call luck 
Is the prerogative of valiant souls, 
The fealty life pays its rightful kings." — J. R. Lowell. 



How nmcli on this revolving sphere, 

That people term success, 
Depends, not on the will of Fate, 

But the will which we possess; 
And, though the world- wise connoisseur 

May boldly call it luck ; 
As boldly I the question ask — 

Friends, is it luck or pluck? 

Your neighbor starts in business ; 

He works and perseveres ; 
His gold and bank-notes fast increase 

With his increase of years ; — • 
He basks secure 'neath fortune's smiles ! 

The world exclaims—" What luck I" 

But, is the world's decision ris^^ht ? 

Or, was it only pluck ? 
103 



lO-t LUCK AND PLUCK. 

Another, by some sad mishap, 

His fortune all has lost; 
For, far too hasty he has been, 

Nor paus'd to count the cost; 
He tries again — seeks to avoid 

The rock on which he struck ; 
He soon becomes a millionaire — ■ 

Say — was this luck, or pluck ? 

One, on the pathway to renown 

And honor, now would turn ; 
And nightly doth the midnight oil 

For him in secret burn ; 
He nears the pinnacle of fame ! 

Earth's idlers deem it luck ; 
But, was it luck that placed him there? 

Or, an unyielding pluck? 

Now, my opinion's briefly this : — 

No matter who agree ; — • 
I make it known to one and all, 

Frankly and candidly. 
That, though so much is often said 

Of good and evil luck. 
What men call the decrees of Fate, 

Are rather pluck than luck. 



I WOULDN'T BE JEALOUS, IF I WERE 
YOU. 



Weaey probationers, one and all, 

Treading the face of this earthly ball. 

Though your lot seems hard, and your irksome way 

Grows rougher and darker every day ; 

If the ways of God you've not understood, 

When the wicked have triumph'd above the good, 

I'd scan such events with a closer view. 

But I wouldn't be jealous, if I were you. 

If your neighbor, by methods you can't explain, 

Each day and hour seems wealth to gain ; 

And by means you do not understand. 

Adds houses to houses, and land to land ; 

If his " loved ones at home " costly raiment have had. 

While yours were in coarsest garments clad ; 

Don't let such events make your spirits "blue;" — 

T wouldn't be jealous, if I were you. 

105 



106 I wouldn't be jealous, if I WERE YOU 



If another more tact than you can boast, 

Seeking his gain at another's cost; 

And, by sonie most marvellous mystery, 

To fame and honor seems rising higli — 

Seems gaining the acme for which you've wrought, 

And with diligent efforts, yet vainly sought ; 

I'd honestly labor to gain it too — 

But I wouldn't be jealous, if I were you. 

If one with a beauteous form and face. 
Endowed with every witching grace; 
The observ'd of all admiring eyes, 
Wins the devotion you so much prize ; 
If the flattering words that freely flow, 
Should rouse in your bosom an envious glow, 
I'd thank kind Heaven for blessings, too. 
But I wouldn't be jealous, if I were you. 

Ah, no ! all these glittering toys of earth. 
Eluding our grasp, are of little worth ; 
For did we but know the toil and pain 
We must oft endure to secure such gain ; 
Methinks we would well-contented be 
With what we have, and with what we see ; 
Then ever to God and yourself be true ;^ 
But I wouldn't be jealous, if I were you. 



CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 

STANZAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN COMPOSED BY A 
LADY DURING A VISIT TO THE HOME OF HER CHILD- 
HOOD, AFTER SEVERAL YEARS RESIDENCE IN THE 

WEST. — Written by request. 



Beloved scenes of early youth, 

Once more you greet my gaze ; 
While mem'ry wafts me back again, 

To happy by-gone days ; 
To clays when I, in childish sport, 

Roam'd o'er these fields so fair, 
Protected by a mother's love, 

A father's guardian care. 

And though, instead of lov'd ones, now, 

I stranger forms beliold ; 
Familiar objects meet my gaze, 

Recalling days of old. 
107 



108 childhood's home. 

That quaint old bouse — the very same 

I cherish'd when a child ; 
The trees beneath whose shade I play'd, 

Fann'd by the breezes mild. 

Yonder's the spring, the dear old spring, 

Whose waters oft I've quaff'd ; 
And ne'er will I again, I ween, 

Enjoy so sweet a draught, 
As that which from its fountain flowed, 

When, in those joyous hours, 
I wandered near its verdant banks, 

To gather woodland flowers. 

The river winds as peacefully, 

As in those days of yore ; 
Its sparkling waves sport just as free 

Along its pebbly shore. 
But, near its banks, its cherished banks, 

A change I now behold ; 
A scene that did not meet my gaze. 

Within those days of old. 

Along the artificial road 

The burdened iron horse 
Glides near the wires which testify, 

Of our immortal Morse. 



childhood's home. 109 

Why did I leave tliese rural liaunts, 

In distant paths to roam ? — 
Forever dear thou'lt be to me, 

My loved, my childhood's home. 

And when in the far West I join 

The friends who wait me there, 
I'll picture oft these peaceful shades 

'Mid Nature's beauties rare. 
Though it may never be my lot 

To visit them again, 
Within my heart one treasur'd spot 

They ever will retain. 
10 



BIETH-DAY PENCILLINGS. 



Another link in Lis pond'rous chain 
Old Time has wrought for me : 

And borne me, on his restless Avings, 
Nearer Eternity. 

Another page in life's mystic book, 

It now is mine to scan ; 
Then let me first each page review, 

Since I its cousre began. 

And while I muse on that lifeless Past, 
Which its dead will not inter, 

"What a host of mem'ries, bright and sad, 
Within my bosom stir. 

Forgiveness I'd extend to all 

Who've wrong^ed me here below, 

And ask that on them, blessino;s true 
Kind Heaven may bestow. 
110 



BIRTH-DAY PENCILLINGS. Ill 

And when tliey act from motives pure 

As pearls on Truth's diadem, 
May tliey ne'er be judged, as harshly judged, 

As mine have been by them. 

For you, congenial spirits dear. 

Who, with a gentle hand, 
Have sought my pilgrimage to cheer, 

Toward th' celestial land ; — 

For you I ask that choicest gifts, 

Shower'd by a hand divine, 
May crown your earthly path with bliss 

Such as you shed o'er mine. 

While, for myself, I would no more 

Of life's alloy secure. 
Than He who formed this throbbing heart, 

Knows that it can endure. 

I ask no high position here 

In the "militant church " below, 
But, in the " triumphant church " above, 

Eternal bliss would know. 



112 BIRTH-DAY PENCILLINGS. 

Then bear me safely, father Time, 

Upon thy restless wings ; 
Till Death shall bid my spirit soar 

From earth and earthly things. 

And whether th' links that yet remain, 

For me be many or few, 
May they more closely bind my soul 

To th' cross of th' Tried and True. 



SUMMER CLOUDS. 



Bright and beauteous summer clouds, 

Floating in the vault above ; 
Seeming like pure angel shrouds 

From the realms of light and love ; — • 
Whence in beaut}^ come ye now, 

Emblems of a brighter sphere ; — 
Flit o'er Heaven's azure brow. 

Then in silence disappear 'I 

Are ye messengers of joy, 

From the regions of the blest; 
Luring us from sin's alloy. 

Unto an eternal ]-est ? 
Proud Philosophy hath taught 

Both your mission and your cause ; — 
Trophies unto science brought, 

Governed by unerring law?. 
10* 113 



114 SUMMER CLOUDS. 

Bat my wayward fancy oft 

Paints for you a higher source, 
As I mark you float aloft, 

Gently on your destined course. 
Heralds bright you seem to me, 

Chasing every shade of gloom, 
Brightening each mystery 

Of the world beyond the tomb. 

I remember, when a child. 

How I marked you gently part ; 
While imagination wild 

Bevelled in my throbbing heart, 
And, as you revealed to me 

Op'nings of an azure hue. 
Eagerly I've watched to see 

Angel faces peeping through. 

Now, when riper years have come, 

Chasing childhood's airy dream. 
Emblems of a brighter home 

To my spirit still you seem. 
Summer clouds, in beauty bright, 

Ever float aloft as now ; 
And, on airy pinions light. 

Flit o'er Heaven's azure brow ! 



TO MY NIECE ON UEK NINTH BIRTH-DAY. 



Thou cherished blossom, sent to bloom 

In Nature's garden fair, 
Object of my unchanging love, 

And solace of my care ; 
My unassuming pen essays 

To trace these lines for thee, "* 
Whilst I am musing o'er the Past — 

The Future's mystery. 

Nine summers now have kissed thy brow- 
That brow so young and fair ; 

And yet, thy heart hath scarcely known 
A shade of grief or care. 

A doting father's only pride — 
A mother's only joy. 

Thy little barque doth smoothly glide — 
No breakers e'er annoy 
115 



116 TO MY NIECE ON HER NINTH BIRTH-DAY. 

But yet, liglit-liearted little one, 

Though now thy lot is blest. 
We know not what dark shades of gloom 

May on thy future rest. 
Kor need we know — I only ask 

Whate'er th}^ lot may be. 
That strength sufficient for thy day 

Be granted unto thee. 

I ask not wealth his costly gifts 

To lavish 'round thy home; 
I ask not that thou mayst shine 

In Fashion's gilded dome; 
I ask not Beauty fair to be 

Thy portion liere on eartli ; 
To tempt the sj^chophant to 'lure 

Thee from the homestead hearth. 

But I would ask that wisdom pure, 

And virtue be thy lot — 
That, 'mid each varied scene of life, 

Thy God be un forgot ; 
I ask that virtue, truth, and grace, 

May reign within thy heart; 
And that thou mayst, in future years, 

Act the true icoman^s part. 



TO MY NIECE ON" HEE NINTH BIRTH-DAY. 117 

A few more days, and then, as wont, 

Thy form I may entwine, 
Anfi gently weave my hand among 

Those chestnut-curls of thine — 
Till then, adieu ! and when, on earth, 

Thy mortal course is run. 
May angel hosts triumphantly 

Proclaim thy vict'ry won. 



*' GILPIN'S ROCKS." 

CECIL COUNTY, MARYLAND. 



EoMANTic spot in Cecil's rural shade ! 

My muse would fain pour forth her lays to thee ; 
For, 'mid thy rustic haunts I see portrayed 

The noble impress of the Deity. 
'Twas on a sultrj^ summer morn I sought 

Thy rugged rocks and brightly plashing spray, 
With friends beloved, whose social converse, fraught 

With wit and wisdom, whiled the hours away. 

Why did I sigh to linger 'mid thy scenes, 
When fleeting time bade me no longer stay ? 

Was it because bright Sol, with scorching beams, 
Shone forth effulgent o'er our destined way ? 

Was it because in leaving thee, T left 

Fond friends endeared to me by kindred ties; 

Of their sweet converse soon to be bereft. 

While long and weary miles between us rise ? 
118 



" Gilpin's rocks." 119 

Yes, this in part ! — But had 1 sought thy shades 

With DO companion for my solitude, 
I could have lingered long within each glade, 

And viewed each scene, majestic, wild, and rude. 
Eock piled on rock in rural grandeur rise, 

While o'er them, bright and free, the waters play, 
Shaded by trees, which, towering toward the skies, 

Obstruct th' entrance of each solar ray. 

AVhat work of art more beautiful and grand. 

Though wrought with finest touch of human skill, 
Than this rude structure of th' Almighty's hand. 

Who fashioned it and formed it at His will ? 
To me, those wild and unfrequented scenes. 

The bounteous hand of Nature there displays. 
Are far more beauteous than the painter's dreams, 

Eevealed on canvass to th' admiring gaze. 

Sweet spot, adieu! and though I never more 

May roam amid thy rustic haunts so fair. 
Fond Memory must forsake her throne before 

I can forget thy beauties wild and fair. 
For, like the friends who with me sought thy shades, 

Thy image is impressed upon my heart. 
Never to be effaced by time or change. 

The freaks of fortune, or the works of art. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 



Heee, within my silent chamber, 

List I to th' Autumn rain, 
As it falls with ceaseless patter. 

Gently on my window-pane ; 
While I gaze with admiration 

As th' earth the mist receives. 
O'er the fair face of creation. 

At the bright-tinged Autumn leaves. 

Autumn leaves — how wise a lesson 

Does their silent language teach — 
With what eloquence impressive 

They to erring mortals preach ! 
Telling us that this world's pleasures, 

Fleeting, transient, are as they ; 
Warning us to place our treasures 

In the realms of perfect day. 
120 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 121 

Autumn leaves, your dazzling beauty 

Calms the weary, troubled soul; 
Leading it through paths of duty, 

To its God-appointed goal. 
Harbinger of stern old winter, 

Soon you'll leave your parent bough ; 
Where ye cling in graceful clusters, 

Winning admiration now. 

Meet it seems, that when the spirit 

Leaves its tenement of clay, 
And is summoned to inherit 

Joys that will not fade away ; 
When our mother Earth's fair bosom 

Gently each pale form receives. 
It should be when ye are fading. 

Bright and beauteous Autumn leaves. 

11 



THE SPIEIT-LAND. 

Heaven is not far from those who see 
With the true spirit sight; 

But near, and in the very heart 
Of those who think aright." 



Why speak in siicli mysterious tones 

Of tlie far-oif, spirit-land ; 
Where sing, in strains of music sweet, 

A liappy, angel band ? 
Why gaze upon the azure sky, 

Smiling in beaut}^ 'round ; 
And say — " Beyond yon ether fair, 

The Spirit-land is found ?" 

It may be that my thoughts are wild, 
And that they sometimes stray, 

Like to a careless, wayward child. 
From their proper sphere away ; 
122 



THE SPIRIT-LAND. 123 

But oft methinks the Spirit-land 

Pervades the soul within, 
When, deep within that soul, there lies 

No consciousness of sin. 



When a Saviour's love doth reign supreme, 

Our errors all forgiven ; 
And His cheering smile in our spirits beam, 

This, this, I say, is heaven. 
I would not doubt that Holy Writ 

Which describes those realms so fair; — 
The crystal fountains, the golden gates, 

And th' bright-winged seraphs there. 



But yet methinks if we ever would 

That blissful world attain, 
Those happy scenes must be felt within, 

Ere its portals we may gain. 
Far, far above us may be that sphere, 

Where our spirits freed may roam ; 
Yet these souls from sin must be ransomed here 

To enjoy so bright a home. 



GOD MADE US TO BE HAPPY. 



Canst thou doubt it ? Look around tbee ! 

See each fruitful, verdant field, 
Telling of the bounteous harvest 

It will to the tiller yield. 

Look upon the crystal waters ! 

Listen to each songster^s note ! 
As he warbles forth his praises 

Sweetly from his tuneful throat ! 

See all animated nature 

Sporting in the sun's bright rays; 
Giving to their wise Creator 

Humble thanks and grateful praise ! 

View the azure voult above thee, 

Spangled with each sparkling gem ! 

Far more brilliant, far more lovely 

Than the monarcli's diadem. 
124 



GOD MADE US TO BE HAPPY. 125 

View these scenes, thou child of sorrow, 

And from them a lesson learn ! 
Yet on thee a brighter morrow 

Fortune's varying hand may turn. 

Put thy trust in Him who made thee — 
Placed thee in this beauteous Avorld I 

Let no trials e'er dismay thee ! 

Keep hope's banner wide unfurled 1 

He designs His erring children 

To be happy here below ,• 
Though he sometimes dregs our gladness 

With the bitter drops of woe. 

Yet, remember, fellow-traveller 

To the same appointed goal, 
That he gives us these afflictions 

But to purify the soul ! 

Onward in the path of duty 

Let thy footsteps firmly press! 
And thou early wilt discover, 

'Tis the road to happiness. 
11* 



FUGITIVE LAYS. 

FOR OAK LAWN, MONTGOMERY COUNTY, PA. 



I'm thinking of a winsome spot 

Fall many miles away ; 
Around which bloom, in sweet perfume, 

Bright flowers and blossoms gay. 
In Autumn, in luxuriant pride, 

Among their leaves of green, 
Are purple grape and velvet peach 

In rich profusion seen. 

In winter, when the crested snow 

Wliitens each hill and vale. 
The cheering blaze within doth bid 

The haughty frost-king quail. 
I'm thinking, too, of loved ones there, 

As busy mem'ry roams ; — ■ 

Of those whose smiling faces cheer 

One of mj^ earthly homes. 
12G 



FUGITIVE LAYS. 127 

For I have many homes below, 

If (as the poet says) 
Our home is found wherever glow 

The true heart's brightest rays, 
Where warmest welcome waits us, when 

We to its threshold come ; 
If this be true, 'tis mine to claim 

Many an earthly home. 

And this is one — this winsome spot 

Full many miles away — 
For it the bright Forget-me-not 

Blooms in my heart for aye. 
Upon this pleasant summer eve 

My fancy wanders there ; — ■ 
Ye sighing zephyrs, on your wings 

My kindest wishes bear. 

Oh, bear them to the cherished friends 

Who cluster 'round that hearth ; 
Whose sympathizing kindness cheers 

My pilgrimage on earth. 
And may their future lot be blest 

As they have blest mine own ! 
May theiis be an eternal rest, 

'Mid joys earth hath not known I 



128 FUGITIVE LAYS. 

Beloved friends, your 'membrance dear 

Illumes life's rugged way ; 
God bless you in your sojourn here 1 

God bless you all for aye ! 
But all ! the waning hours forbid 

This converse sweet with you ; 
For sterner duties wait me now ; — • 

Ye gentle ones, adieu I 



CUELING SMOKE. 



O'er a landscape bare and brown, 
Blasted by the frost-king's stroke ; 

Eising from the busy town, 

See the graceful, curling smoke ! 

Yesternigbt the atmosphere 
Bade it sink unto the earth ; 

Now it soars through ether clear, 
Toward the realms of higher worth. 



Upward, from consuming flames 
Takes it its etherial way ; 

Purpled by the golden rays 
Of the setting " king of day." 

Like a thing of witching grace, 
On its heav'nward course it goes 

How I love that course to trace, 
'Mid these seasons of repose I 
129 



130 CURLING SMOKE. 

Spirit wliom the saints invoke, 
Unto whom we bow the knee, 

Upward, like the curling smoke, 
Henceforth let my life-course be. 



FIDELITY. 

False to the living, if thou wilt, 
But faithful to the dead." 



False, didst tliou say ? — Oh, no ! — All nature 

speaks 
And bids thee to recall those random words ; 
Lest in some trusting heart they cause a wound 
No earthly balm can heal. 

Order, the great, first, truest law of Heaven, 
Controllins; all thino^s in the Universe, 
Li silent language hourly doth proclaim 
Its Legislator true, immutable. 
And should not all that emanate 
From that unchanging source, be as unchang'd — 
As faithful to their trust as He whose word 
Gave them existence here ? 

True, human nature. 
Unlike the Divine, more prone to error is ; 
More wont to stray from the appointed course. 

131 



132 FIDELITY. 

Yet, He who formed that nature knows, full well, 
How, in His own appointed time and way, 
It may accomplish its life-given design. 

Oh, let us then be faithful unto all ! 
Yet, if we must be false, let it not be 
Unto the living^ — those whose throbbino- hearts, 
Keenly alive to ev'ry painful wound 
The poison'd arrows of neglect produce, 
Shrink from their aim, as does th' sensitive plant 
From the rude touch of mortals ! No ! rather let 
The unconscious dead be victims unto 
Our inconstancy. Yet they a claim possess — 
A sacred claim on our fidelity. 
And, from their earthy graves, their silent 
Tongues, bound in death's icy fetters, seem 
To speak, and hourly bid us to be false 
To none. 

Then strive, oh, mortal man, 
In all thy actions with thy fellows here, 
One virtue more to add unto the list 
By Holy Writ prescribed; and let that 
Virtue be — Fidelity. 



COME UP HIGHER. 



Bright Sol's last rajs had kissed tlie earth, 

The twilight hours drew near ; 
And gentle Luna's pearly rays 

Illumed our nether sphere. 
The flowers had closed their petals fair, 

Gemm'd by the dew-drops bright; 
While ling'ring day-beams yielded to 

The sombre shades of night. 
The stars in beauty shone above ; 

All nature did conspire 
To fill the grateful soul with love 

And bid it come up higher. 

Beside a coach a mother sat, 

In agony of grief; 
Ko lovely scene without could give 

Her buirden'd heart relief. 
12 133 



134 COME UP HIGHER. 

For near her lay a suff'ring child, 

Her only joy and pride, 
Sinking beneath the stormy waves 

Of Jordan's swelling tide. 
" Mamma," it said, " I dreamed, just now, 

Of God's seraphic choir ; 
They spread their snowy, glitt'ring wings, 

And bade me come up higher !" 

The voice is hushed ; the quick pulse stilled ; 

The life-blood ceased to flow ; 
The fring'd lids are closed for aye 

On objects here below. 
Death's damps are 'mid those clnst'ring curls; 

That cherub form is still ; 
Those rounded limbs no longer move 

At childhood's earnest will. 
A form lies there in Death's embrace. 

That angels might admire ; 
A soul has yielded to the call — ■ 

" Pure spirit, come up higher I" 

" Daughter," a skeptic father said, 

" Cast that dull book aside ! 
Believe me it was ne'er designed 

Our path through life to guide." 



COME UP HIGHEB. 

" Papa, I cannot it renounce, 

AYliile an immortal soul 
Thus struggles 'mid its foes to reach 

Its God-appointed goal. 
I love the holy prophet's zeal 

Waked by the Psalmist's lyre ; 
They call forth all that's pure and good. 

And bid me come up higher I" 

" How know you an imm.ortal soul 

Thus struggles with its foes ; 
And longs to reach a destined goal 

Exempt from earthly woes ?" 
" A something tells me it, papa, 

I feel it glow within, 
It fain would burst its prison bars, 

And flee this world of sin. 
In dark temptation's hour it glows, 

AVith ardent, pure desire ; 
It loathes its tenement of clay, 

And longs to soar up higher.;' 

A youth, upon whose brow was stamped 

Th' impress of a soul 
Awake to noble acts and deeds, 

Once sought the pois'nous bowl. 



135 



136 COME UP HIGHER. 

For Fortune with a threat'nino; frown 

His path in life beset ; 
While dire Temptation lured him on 

To drink — " drink and forget !" 
He sought the bowl, but turned aside ; 

He quench VI the mad desire ; 
For conscience' " still, small voice," he heard- 

It whispered — " Come up higher !" 

Thus, when temptation's sjren voice 

Would 'lure the soul astray, 
And bid us seek true happiness 

In sin's dark, thorny way ; 
When sorrow's cup 'tis ours to drain, 

When friends and fortune flee ; 
When th' o'erbitrdened, care-worn heart, 

Sinks in despondency ; 
Faith points to th' unnumber'd host 

Of Heaven's angel choir ; 
While hope smiles in the fainting soul. 

And bids it " come up higher !" 

Comrades in truth's celestial cause, 

Let this our motto be ! 
Let us press onward to attain 

Our highest destiny ! 



COME UP HIGHER. 137 

Justice and Right now lead us on, 

While Duty points the way, 
Through sunlight diram'd by ebon clouds, 

Unto a brighter day. 
Life, health, and vigor now are ours, 

While all around conspire 
To urge us on to victory. 

And bid us come up higher. 

Then let no grov'ling thoughts be ours ! 

Let virtue be our aim ! 
Let all that's noble, just, and true, 

Our fixed attention claim ! 
Where Duty calls, press bravely on ! 

N^or ever disobey ! 
But, witli determined, earnest zeal, 

Pursue our destined way. 
And, when Death frees the fettered soul, 

May the angelic choir 
Smile sweetly on ns from above, 

And whisper — " Come up higher '*' 

12* 



EIPPLES m THE GRAIN. 



The summer sun, declining, his beams is darting 

free ; 
In gorgeous splendor shining o'er woodland, stream, 

and lea ; 
A moment still, he lingers at the portals of th' West, 
And then, with rosy fingers, folds its drap'ry o'er his 

breast ; 
His luster, still adorning the clouds which hover 

there. 
Casts rays like early morning, athwart a landscape 

foir ; 
And, as he sinks to slumber, the ev'ning zephyr 

train 
Awakes, in countless number, the ripples in the 

grain. 

138 



EIPPLES IN THE GRAIN". 139 

A sight of grace and beauty those ripples are to r 

Porti'aying life's great duty on thought's tumulti 
sea ; 

They tell of pure emotions within the human breast, 

When th' hour of calm devotion hath still'd the soul's 
unrest ; 

Foretell, in language truthful, the joyous harvest- 
time, 

When sturdy yeomen youthful, with song, and jest, 
and rhyme. 

Come forth in gleeful numbers, a merry reaper 
train, 

T' break th' restless slumbers of th' ripples in the 
grain. 

Great Father, 'mid thy blessings, oh, teach us all to 
know 

The all-important lesson — from whence those bles- 
sings flow ; 

From earth's enchanting beauties, ol), may we ev'ry 
day. 

Learn something of earth's duties upon our destined 
way ; 

And, as each harvest greets us, may it the truth 
renew — ■ 



140 RIPPLES IN THE GRAIN. 

That Thy great harvest waits us, and laborers are 

'few ! 
While, flits each pure emotion in an angelic train, 
Through thought's tumultuous ocean, like ripples in 
the grain. 



GONE BEFORE. 

"Part of the host have crossed the flood, 
And part are crossing now." 



Yes, part have crossed the flood, and safely stand 
Triumphant on the starry shore of heaven ; 

Within the confines of that blissful land, 
Erom Pisgah's top to Moses' vision given. 

Methinks I see them now— the young, the gay- 
Manhood, with buoyant tread, and woman's form ; 

And aged veterans, whose locks of gray 

Wave in the winds of Death's portentous storm. 

I see them as I saw them e'er they crossed 

The threat'ning waves of Jordan's swelling tide ; 

And mingled with that pure unnuraber'd host, 
By th* inspired Evangehst descried. 
141 



142 GONE BEFORE. 

Long years have passed since, by " tlie boatman pale," 
Some of these voyagers were borne away ; 

While others, ere this Spring's reviving gale 

Had fanned their brows, left earthly scenes for aye. 

One, frank, and free from all deceptive arts, 

And blithe and gay as lark from woodland flown, 

Left us, when the fond tendrils of our hearts 
Were clasping close and closer to her own. 

In vain a parent's, brother's, sister's, love 
Bade her remain and share terrestrial bliss; 

Her spirit, lured to brighter worlds above. 
Burst from the bonds that fettered it to this. 

Friends, sympathizing friends, with tearful eyes, 
Gazed on the scene, disheartened and appalled; 

But, all unheeding, Jordan's waves arise — 
She could not linger when her Saviour called. 

Another one, in early womanhood, 

'Mid all the cares of mother and of wife. 

Whose soul bore impress of the true and good, 
Ent'ring Death's barque, forsook the shore of life. 



GONE BEFOKE. 143 

Au infant's wail, a prattling child's caress, 

The sobs of weeping friends assembled 'round, 

A loving husband's look of tenderness — 

Nought, nought could stay that spirit " homeward 
bound." 

These were the last on which my sorrowing eyes 
Gazed, as they neared the port of endless rest — ■ 

Mourning, yet joying that, in Paradise, 
" Th' early called are ever early blessed." 

" And some are crossing now " — upon that stream, 
That cold, resistless, overwhelming tide, 

'Mid winter's cold or summer sun's bright beam, 
The " boatman pale " his barque doth ever guide. 

We near the margin, too. Thou Crucified, 

Oh ! grant, that when for us that barque is steer'd ; 

We'll safely anchor on the other side. 

Though life-winds oft its destined course have 
veer'd ! 

May-day^ 1860 



CHARITY. 

" You look very bappy !" said Hilda to a penitent, who had 
just received the benediction of the priest. " Is it then so sweet 
to go to the confessional?" 

"Oh, very sweet, my dear signorina !" answered the woman. 
" My heart is at rest, now. Thanks be to the Saviour, and the 
blessed Virgin, and the saints, and this good father, there is no 
more trouble for poor Theresa !" Hawthorne's Marble Faun. 



Protestant brother — thou who woiildst condemn 
Each earnest action of thy fellow-men ; 
Simply because such actions, as thou saith. 
Ignore what seems to thee a truer faith ; 
Oh, pause 'mid thy unjust severity, 
And humbly learn a world-wide charity. 

For, is not he who bows before his priest, 

Feelins: that of all saints he is the least, 

Who through the Virgin would the Son revere, 

Because unworthy to approach more near ; 

144 



CHARITY. 145 

Say — is not such as he closely allied 
Unto the Publican Christ justified? 

Then let us not our soul's Shechinah dim, 
By thanking God that we are not like him ; 
But let us meekly forth our life-cross bear, 
Kor lay it down until our crown Ave wear ; 
Nor, like to the self righteous Pharisee, 
Yainly make broad our own phylactery. 

And, when, in sin's dark vale thy brother strays, 
Like a lost sheep, from virtue's pleasant ways, 
Let not thy tongue, in cold, unfeeling scorn, 
Add to the poignant grief already borne ; 
Eemembering that the sinless shall alone 
Presume to cast the contumelious stone. 



For what to man is the " church militant/' 

But that which soothes the lowly penitent, 

Which bids all dogmas, creeds, and forms take flight 

'Neath th' effulgence of the Grospel light ; 

Bears with our brother's frailties as our own. 

And aids his progress towards the Father's throne? 
13 



146 CHARITY. 

The zealous Paul tliese duties all foresaw, 

When seeking to expound this righteous law — • 

Now charity, faith, hope abide, said he ; 

But, greatest of them all, is charity ; 

And he who fails that charity to show. 

Bliss in the " church triumphant," ne'er may know. 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 



There is a spot, a quiet spot, within a sliady bower 
Wliicb holds within my heart, e'en now, a sway of 

magic power ; 
Far from the dusty highway's din, it stands in sweet 

repose ; 
A grassy by-way leads us where, long years ago, it 

rose : 
And there, beneath the rural shade, so prized in days 

of yore. 
An edifice of ancient art the stranger may explore, 
It tells me of the friends beloved, who thronged those 

wide old halls, 
And to my fancy onee again each cherished scene 

recalls ; — 
'Tvvas there ni}^ sire my mother wooed; 'twas there 

he told his love ; 
'Twas there their mutual vows were pledged and reg- 
istered above ; 

147 



148 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 

And o'er that homestead's threshold dear, that gentle 
being passed, 

To share the joys and cares of him with whom her 
lot was cast. 

There too, in childish glee, I trod those antique oaken 
floors ; 

There, in the little yard I played beside those mas- 
sive doors — 

Familiar scenes, ye haunt me still ; though weary 
years have flown. 

And death hath sever'd me from friends I loved, and 
called my own. 

My honored grandsire's hoary locks — methinks I see 
them now ; — 

That vigorous, athletic form, age sought in vain to 
bow ; 

Those kind and gentle tones of his, that firm, un- 
yielding will ,• 

AYhich, while he mildly chid my faults, proved that 
he loved me still ; 

The eight-day clock, so old and quaint, beside the 
chimney-piece, 

Whose warning sounds so often bade my evening 
pastimes cease ; 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 149 

The orchard with its tempting fruits ; the garden, 

richly stored ; 
The barn, designed from winter's storms the golden 

grain to hoard ; 
The spring-house and its dairj-niaids, with faces 

brii2^ht and fair, 
Its batter and delicious cream which 'twas my lot to 

share ; 
Those scenes I yet remember well, though many a 

change hath come, 
And strangers now frequent the haunts where I ^vi\s 

wont to roam. 
Y^s, cherished spot, this constant heart will hold 

thee still the same ! — 
Old places have a charm for me, the new can never 

claim ; 
And wheresoever I may be, whatever fate be mine, 
I'll cling ivith fondness unto those endearing scenes 

of thine. 
Christ teach me so to live, that when life's silver 

cord is riven, 
r may enjoy with friends beloved, a homestead sweet 

in Heaven. 

13* 



SUMMER FRIENDS. 

" Tt was not an enemy that reproached rae ; then I could have 
borne it." — Psalms Iv. 12. 



Gazing from my western casement, 
As tlie light with darkness blends, 

Mase I on the Past and Present, 
Muse I now on summer friends. 

In the ether, clouds are lowering ; 

Darkly o'er my head they roll ; 
Thus are gloomy clouds of sadness 

Lowering in my inmost soul. 

Harshl}^ blam'd have been my actions, 

Earnest efforts to do good ; 

While my purest, best intentions. 

Coldly have been misconstrued. 
150 



SUMMER FEIENDS. 161 

Yet, methinks I might have borne it, 

Had it been mine enemy, 
Who my life-path thus hath darkened 

With the shades of contumely. 

But it was my guide, acquaintance. 

Whom I valued as a friend ; 
Whose good name and reputation 

Even now I would defend. 

Why, then, do they judge thus harshly ? 

Wh}^ expect me to confess 
To internal thoughts and feelings 

I would shudder to possess? 

I must doubt where once I trusted ; 

Learn to shun where once I loved; 
For that trust's unworthy objects 

False to friendship's pledge have proved. 

Yet, 'tis best : I know, I feel it : 

E'en amid this deep'ning gloom 
Brooding o'er my troubled spirit. 

Thus doth consolation come — 



162 SUMMEE FRIENDS. 

" While prosperity's bright sunlight 
Bade all praise and none to blame, 

Thou beneath its inflaence basking, 
Scarce knew whence the blessiu"- came. 

a 

"But these adverse gales, now blowing, 
Bring to view thy real friends ; 

And thou'lt value far more highly 
Those blest gifts the Father sends. 

"And they'll draw thee closer, nearer, 
To thy faithful Friend above ; 

Bid thee place thy dearest treasures 
In the regions of his love." 



Father, reigning in Thy kingdom, 
Though my erring fellow-men, 

M}^ sincerest, purest motives 
May unfeelingly condemn ; 

Thou who know'st my spirit's secrets, 
Who my thoughts can understand, 

T would claim at Thy tribunal 
Truest justice at Thy hand. 



SUMMER FRIENDS. 153 

Then, when life's alluring sunshine 

Ceases with its storms to blend, 
May my soul, o'er death triumphant, 

Thank Thee for each summer friend I 



''FAITHFUL IS HE THAT CALLETH YOU." 

1 Thess. v. 24. 



Little child, with careless glee, 
Sporting on the flowery lea; 
Maiden with the sunny hair, ' 
Unto whom life seems so fair ; 
Youth with buoyant step and light, 
Climbing fame's alluring height ; 
From eartlT's pleasures turn awhile ! 
Seek the path that leads from guile ! 
Seek the Holy and the True — 
" Faithful is He that calleth you." 

Matron, on whose brow serene. 
Care's sad traces may be seen ; 
Manhood, 'mid whose locks of brown, 
Threads of silver have been strewn. 
Hoary age, whose bowing form 
Soon will yield to life's rude storm ; 
154 



"faithful is he that calleth you." 155 

From earth's trials turn awa j ! 
Seek Religion's inborn ray ! 
Seek the Holy and the True — 
" Faithful is He that calleth you." 

Soldiers of the sacred cross, 
Ever counting all things loss, 
For the knowledge ye have known, 
Of the meek and lowly One ; 
Toilers on life's battle -plain, 
Where Truth's champions are slain. 
Falter not when death shall come ! 
In Christ's kingdom there is room ; 
Seek the Holy and the True ! — 
" Faithful is He that calleth vou." 



THE THEEE SOLILOQUIES. 



Heart, to me the truth unfold ! — 
Heart, with anxious feelings fraught- 

Am I dazzled by his gold ? 
Do I love or do I not? 

Is that brightly-flashing eye, 
Or that voice of winning art, 

Graceful form or forehead high. 
Empire for a woman's heart? 

Harry May they say is plain ; 

Plain, alike in flice and form ; 
Yet his bosom doth contain 

Pure affections, true and warm. 

Truer far they seem to me, 

Than the haughty Darnley's love; 
Yet, I've promised his to be, 

'Neath those stars that shine above. 
156 



THE THKEE SOLILOQUIES. 157 

God forgive me, if I sin, 

For my friends approve my choice ; 
Crush my fondest hopes within, 

Bid me 'mid my woes rejoice. 



It is o'er — the word is said ; — 
I am Horace Darnley's bride ; — 

My aflections are betrayed — 
Fetter'd by a parent's pride. 

Little thought that joyous crowd. 
Decked in costly jewels bright. 

Who, with aspect coldly proud, 
Throng'd around me yesternight ; 

How that fragile bridal wreath 
Pressed upon my throbbing brow, 

As I vow'd to love, till death, 
One I love not, even now. 

How, as like a statue cold, 

I beheld the guests depart ; 

That each snowy satin fold 

Trembled o'er an aching heart. 
14 , 



158 THE THREE SOLILOQUIES. 

But, 'tis done — the die is cast — ■ 
I must try to love him now ;— 

Buried in the bidden Past 
Is each falsely ntter'd vow. 



Years have passed — three weary years, 
Since my childhood's home I left ; — • 

Tears I've shed — aye, bitter tears. 
Of its peaceful joys bereft. 

Costly equipage is mine ; 

Servants wait in livery ; 
I, in silks and jewels shine, 

Doom'd to splendid misery. 

Worldlings gaze with envious eyes, 
And esteem my station blest ; 

Eancy I have won a prize. 

In the wealth by me possess'd. 

Would they had my paltry gold ; — 

Would they had my princely home- 
Father ! from Thy peaceful fold 
Let thy lambkin cease to roam ! 



THE THREE SOLILOQUIES. 159 

All mj happiness while here, 

Sacrificed at mammon's shrine ; 
Own me in a brighter sphere ! 

Bless me by Thy love divine ! 



"GOD TEMPERS THE WIND TO THE 
SHORN LAMB." 



Stkanger, whom Fate decrees to roam, 
Far from thy native land and home ; 
Whose yearning soul ne'er sweetly blends 
In social intercourse with friends ; 
When thy sad breast's internal pulse 
Is quick'ning 'neath each rude repulse ; 
Approach the throne of the great I Am ! 
He " tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." 

Mother, whose throbbing bosom yearns 
For that wayward son who no more returns ; 
Who, 'mid ardent hopes and anxious fears, 
Patiently watch'd o'er his infant years ; 
Who, with tearful eyes and aching heart, 
Saw him from th' threshold of home depart ; 
Approach the throne of the great I Am ! 
He " tempers the wind to the sLorn lamb." 

IGO 



GOD TEMPERS THE WIND TO THE SHORN LAMB. 161 

Orphan, with tearful, downcast eye, 

Whose soul is yearning for sympathy; 

When th' heartless world with threat'ning frown 

Doth weigh thy spirit with anguish down ; 

When thou art wear^^^ sad, and lone, 

Craving the love tbou once hast known ; — 

Approach the throne of the great I Am ! 

He "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." 

Mourner o'er that departed worth, 
Whose casket, within the silent earth, 
Lies buried 'neath the valley's clod. 
While its priceless jewel is flown to God! 
Look through thy tears with an eye of faith ! 
Lo ! ransomed saints to tby spirit saith — 
" Approach the throne of the great I Am ! 
He ' tempers the wind to the shorn lamb ' " 

Ay, every weary, way-worn soul, 
Trembling and faint ere you reach your goal, 
Though winds may toss your frail life-barque, 
And bear you afar from Safety's ark ; 
Still, as of old, your Saviour's nigh, 
Whisp'ring softly — "Fearjiot, 'tis I!" 
Approach the throne of the great I am! 
He " tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." 
14* 



UNDEE-CUEEENTS. 

FONDLY INSCRIBED TO MY FRIEND, " KATHLEEN. '^ 



KA'mLEB'N, my friend, dost thou remember when 

Oiice we together rode through Buckingham ? 
Pass'd one by one the neat abodes of men, 

In rural ease reposing, still and calm ? 
A tempest was before us — not a storm : 

Ah, no ! for wintry winds blew soft that day ; — - 
But one of Equus' race, whose noble form 

Envelop'd in his coat of dapple-gray. 
Safely toward Doylestown bore us on our way. 

Incessantly we chatted ; women do 
On all occasions — so, presuming, say 

" Creation's lords;" and wdiether false or true. 
For once, at least, we'll let them have their way. 

Now gay, now serious, conversation's tide 

Flow'd forth unchecked as moments glided on ; 

We spoke of friends in girlhood's, manhood's pride, 

162 



UNDER-CUEREXTS. 163 

AVbose brief heart histories we each had known, 
And from whose bosoms much of life's best hopes 
had flown. 

And then, in thy own, unassuming style, 

This language thou to me addressed, Kathleen : — 
"I sometimes think that many, all the while 

Cold, unimpassion'd they to others seem, 
Conceal an under-current in their breast. 

Known but to him who formed the human heart ; 
A current causing oft that heart's unrest. 

As calmly, patiently they bear their part 
In this world's unrelenting, cold, and selfish mart." 

So true thy language seemed, it made vibrate 

Each hidden cord Avithin my inmost soul ; 
And many times I've thought — how pure, how great 

The joy of those must be, who reach life's goal 
Free of such currents. Then again I pause ; 

Knowing that He, the author of our life, 
Kiudly directs by His unvarying laws 

These inner streams Avith restless waters rife, 
To find their source in Him the one great Fount of 
life. 



164: UNDER-CUREENTS. 

Proud Science in tli' outer world doth give 

Reasons for under-currents of the sea ; 
But for the spirit's surgings we'd receive 

A more profound and pure philosophy. 
For who can tell the deep, internal woe 

Of souls who bear these under-currents forth ? 
Who but th' omniscient One may ever know 

Their secret longings, 'mid the scenes of earth, 
For something formed of more enduring worth ? 

Mayst thou, my friend, if thy young life has e'er 

Been fraught with deep emotions such as these; 
The anchor place of thy aspirings, where 

No storm shall scathe it — where no gentler breeze 
May sway its cable ; and mayst thou e'er know — 

Acting thy part in earth's m.ysterious scene — 
Hearts as impressible of others' woe, 

Friends true to thee as thou to thine hast been ! 
May Heaven bless thy lot, as now, for aye, Kathleen ! 



IMPEOMPTU TO WATER. 



Dame Nature fair 
Hath beauties rare 

To charm each son and daughter ; 
But nought that she shows 
With more beauty glows 

Than the pure and limpid water. 
Like diamonds bright, 
In the warm sunlight, 

It sparkles in stream and river; 
In seeming glee 
It gurgles free — 

This gift of the bounteous Giver. 

In waves it rolls 
Toward th' icy polls, 

'Mid the depths of the surging ocean ; 
Or, reckless foils 
O'er some rugged walls. 

Rent by the earth's commotion. 
1G5 



166 IMPROMPTU TO WATER. 

It dances along, 

To th' mermaid s song 

Of joy, joy now and ever ; 
Ne'er its beauty dies 
'Neath til' wintry skies; 

For its cliarms it retains forever. 

The flowers meet death, 
When th' bliojhtinsj breath 

Of the frost- king breathes upon them ; 
And the trees and grass, 
As they mark him pass, 

Seek their sombre robes to don them. 
But the water, though 
It may cease to flow, 

In its laughing summer beauty, 
Hath never yet 
Seem'd to quite forget 

That its is a joyous duty. 

In snowy flakes 

From the clouds it breaks, 

When icy chains have bound it; 
And gracefully falls 
From its lofty halls 

To enliven the gloom around it. 



IMPROMPTU TO V/ATER. 167 

Then, in stainless drifts, 
Its form it lifts 

As tlie sleigh-bells merry tingle. 
With loaded sleighs 
And charger's neighs. 

Pass by with varied jingle. 

"When each stream, frost-bound, 
Shows to all around 

The skill of the wise Creator, 
Their surfaces yield 
An ample field 

"For the feet of the joyful skater. 
Thus the water bright. 
Like a fairy sprite 

In its varied forms of beauty. 
Hath never yet 
Seem'd to quite forget 

That its is a joyous duty. 

I value them all. 

Both great and small — 

These gifts of the bounteous Giver ; 
Yet, for me, I confess, 
None such charms possess 

As this spirit of sea and river. 



168 IMPROMPTU TO WATER. 

Aj, Nature fair 
Hatli beauties rare 

To cliarm each son and daughter; 
But nought she shows 
With more beaut}^ glows, 

Than the pure and limpid water. 



TO THE SCHUYLKILL RIVER. 



Sweet Scliuylkill, my own native stream, 

To thee my strains belong ; 
Be thou my bumble muse's theme — ■ 

The subject of my song. 

Thouo-h bards have seldom sung; of thee 

In measure or in rhyme ; 
Thou'lt hold, within my memory, 

A place throughout all time. 

Thou canst not boast fair Hudson's scenes, 
Nor Delaware's broad waves ; 

Nor wouldst thou admiration win 
AVhere Susquehanna laves. 

But, though beside thy sister streams, 

Thou humble dost appear; 
Thy name will ever be to me 

Most sacred and most dear. 
15 169 



170 TO THE SCITLTYLKILL KIVEB. 

For, 'twas upon thy verdant shore 

My infant footsteps trod ; 
'Twas there I learn'd to know and love 

The beauteous works of God. 

In later years I've gazed upon 
Thy placid waves so bright ; 

Or mark'd them when stern winter's frosts 
Enchain'd them from the sight. 

Or, when the angry storms have made 

Thy turbid waters rise, 
I've silently admired the Power 

That rules thee from the skies. 

And now my thoughts revert to thee, 

As far from thee I roam ; 
And mark, beside thy waves so free, 

That sacred spot — my home. 



That home, where, a short time ago, 

I fondly bade adieu 
Unto my earliest bosom friends, 

The dearest and most true. 



TO THE SCHUYLKILL RIVER. 171 

There, too, witliiii death's cold embrace, 

Where beauteous flowrets bloom, 
Those whom I early loved aud lost, 

Sleep in the silent tomb. 

Then 'tis not strange that thou to me 

Shouldst ever seem most dear ; 
Or that my humble pen presumes 

To trace thy praises here. 

For, should I roam o'er all the earth, 

I ne'er will find, I ween, 
A fairer, sweeter spot to me, 

Than thou, my native stream. 



PKACTISE WHAT YOU PREACH: 

OR, EXAMPLE BETTER THAN PRECEPT. 

Tell me not of garbled sermon, 

Elegance of thought and style ; 
Heard from out our modern pulpits 

Man from error to beguile. 
Eloquence may charm the ftincy, 

Summon an admiring crowd, 
Who surround the gifted preacher 

With their praises, long and loud ; 
But if God's appointed servants 

Would their hearer's conscience reach. 
Leading them in paths of wisdom — 

They must practise what they preach. 

Parents, if your tender offspring 
Ye would lead in ways of truth, 

Shielding them from the temptations 
That surround the path of youth ; 
172 



PRACTISE WHAT YOU PREACH. 173 

Count as vain j^our time-worn maxims, 

And, to make your teaching sure, 
Guide tliem — not alone by. precept. 

But example, just and pure, 
For, to shelter from the tempests 

Sin's dark clouds would cast 'round each 
Tender flower of your protection, 

You must practise what you preach. 

Teachers, if throughout your duties, 

Ever faithful you would be, 
Not by words, but by your actions, 

Teach in all sincerity. 
Youthful eyes are on you gazing, 

Youthful hearts your thoughts receive; - 
Eagerly they catch your accents. 

Eagerly your words believe ; — - 
Then beware ! lest by those actions, 

Untrue principles you leach ; 
And forget not you must ever 

Strive to practise what you preach. 

Ye who would redeem a brother 

Through a Saviour's pard'ning love, 

Know that by your bright example 

You must 'lure to joys above ! 
15* 



174 PKACTISE AVHAT YOU Y'HKACH, 

Better were the world, and wiser, 
Full of goodness and of truth, 

If, throughout each generation, 
Hoary age and buoyant youth. 

All who preach the glorious gospel, 
All who govern, all who teach. 

Would but learn this useful lesson- 
Always practise what you preach, 



OMNISCIENCE. 

" London makes mirth ; but I know God hears 
The sighs i' th' dark, and the dropping of tears.' 

Gerald Massey. 



How bless'd the thoaght, that on this nether sphere, 
That God who marks the tiny sparrow's fall, 

Who gave existence unto all things here. 
His guardian care extendeth over all. 

How bless'd for those astray from virtue's path, 
Pierc'd by the pois'nous arrows vice hath hurl'd, 

And trembling 'neath high Heaven's impending 
wrath, 
Now mourn within the Londons of our world. 

How bless'd for those who their good Father's home 
Have left, temptation's labyrinth to try ; 

As wand'rers and as outcasts doomed to roam — • 
Weary of life, and yet afraid to die, 
175 



176 OMNISCIENCE. 

To know wlieii keenest anguisb rends the heart, 
And untokl grief finds vent alone in tears; 

That e'en amid th' earth's remotest mart, 
The omnipresent One both sees and hears! 

Tliat One, who, veil'd in mortal flesh below, 

The weakness of that flesh Himself hath proved ; 

Meekly consenting that His blood should flow, 
To seal the pardon of the race He loved. 

Earth's weary ones, behold your Sov'reign God ! 

He reigns above in grace and mercy free ; 
In kindness doth He wield the chastening rod. 

Whispering — " Ye heavy-laden, come to me !'^ 

What though your erring felloAV-man, in scorn, 
Should pass you by upon the other side ? — 

Salvation points to that triumphant morn — 
The resurrection of the Crucified. 



EANDOM THOUGHTS. 

FOR THE NEW YEAR OF 1860. 



Lightly fall the crystal snow-flakes 

Over all the restless earth, 
Like the down from angels' pinions, 
Come they from those bright dominions. 
Where, upon their ether pinions. 

Sail the clouds that gave them birth ; 
And they bear, amid their brightness, 
Parity and virgin whiteness, 

Harbingers of winter's mirth. 

Many eyes are on them gazing, 

As they softly fall around ; 
Many hearts are beating gladly. 
Many pulses bounding madly. 
Many, too, are throbbing sadly, 
177 



178 RANDOM THOUGHTS. 

While hot tears beclew the ground; 
For, for some, bright rays of gladness, 
And for others, clouds of sadness, 

'Mid those shining: flakes are found. 



"Votaries of wealth and fashion, 

As they mark those flakelets fall, 
Yiew them as some priceless treasure, 
For they seem to them a measure, 
Meting out its share of pleasure — 

Joy and pleasure unto alL 
While the poor, upon them gazing. 
And to Heav'n their eyes upraising, 
See them as a funeral pall. 

For, to them, their silent language 
Tells of sternest want and woe ; 
Tells of cold and hunger pressing, 
Tells of griefs, e'en more distressing, 
Tells of anguish most oppressing, 
Known but to the poor below ; 
And to Him who careth for them, 
Him whose love e'er watches o'er them, 
As they on their life-path go. 



RANDOM THOUGHTS. 179 

Tliou who rulest storm and tempest, 
Life's dark conflicts and its cheer, 

E'er above the storm-cloud ridino^, 

And for us with care providing, 

To us, in Thy love abiding, 
Sanctify each hope and fear ; 

Till, enrob'd in snowy whiteness. 

Our freed souls, in realms of brightness, 
Enter on a glad New Year. 



THPJ INEBRIATE'S WIFE. 

A PARODY. 



Stay, husband — stay, and hear my woe ! 

It is thy wife who kneels to thee ; — 
What thou art now, too well I know ; 

And what thou wast, and what shouldst be. 
To harshly chide I would forbear — 

My language shall be mild though sad : 
Yet such neglect, from one so dear, 

Will drive me mad — will drive me mad! 

King Alcohol hath chained thy soul — 

Hath bound it with resistless spell 1 
Dark is thy doom — thy destined goal ! 

Oh, haste 1 That threat'ning fate dispel ! 
Oh, haste, my breaking heart to cheer ! 

That breaking heart 'twill surely glad, 
To know thou wilt no longer, here, 

Pursue a course so basely mad. 
180 



THE inebriate's WIFE. 181 

He smiles in scorn and turns from me — 

Our hovel quits — -I knelt in vain ! 
Hope's glimmering ray no more I see. 

'Tis gone — and all is gloom again. 
Cold, bitter cold ! — ISTo warmth, no light ! 

Life, all thj comforts once I had ; 
Yet, here I'm left this freezing night, 

By suff 'ring driven almost mad. 

'Tis sure some dream — some vision vain — 

What ! I, the child of rank and wealth, 
Am I the Avretch endures this pain, 

'Eeft of affection, friends, and health ? 
Ah ! while I dwell on blessings fled. 

Which nevermore my heart shall glad, 
How aches my heart, how burns my head — 

Such agony will drive me mad ! 

Hast thou, my child, forgot e'er this, 

A father's face — a father's tongue ? 
He has forgot your last fond kiss, 

Or 'round his neck how fast yon clung ; 
Or how you sued for him to stay — 

How sternly he that suit forbade: 

Or how — I'll drive such thoughts away — • 

They'll make me mad — they'll make me mad ! 
16 



182 THE inebriate's wife. 

His rosy lips once sweetly smiled — • 

His mild blue eyes once brightly shone ; — 
None ever bore a lovelier child — 

But ah ! that loveliness has flown ! 
Flown — and I'll ne'er behold it more 

'Mid earthly scenes, my darling lad — 
Thank God, thy suff 'rings now are o'er, 

Else they had surely drove me mad. 

Oh, hark ! What mean those yells and cries? 

He home returns — the morning breaks — ■ 
He comes — I see his demon eyes — 

Now, now my inmost spirit quakes ! 
Help ! help ! He raves ! O fearful woe ! 

Such oaths to hear — such blasphemy 1 
My breath — my breath — I know — I know — 

From — anguish — soon — I shall — be free ! 

Yes, soon ! For, lo you ! while I speak, 

Seraphic strains I seem to hear — 
Angelic hosts — your courts I seek ; — 

Joy — joy — the Father's throne I near ! 
Yet, unto Him one last fond prayer 

I'd breathe in heartfelt tones, thougli sad — 
Him whom I love, Oh, spare — Oli, spare — 

Kedeem — him — from — a course— so mad ! 



MY OTHEE SELF. 



Sometimes, metliinks, I'm of two selves composed — 

The outer and the imier : 
The inner prompts to high and noble deeds ; 
The outer acts ; but ill, at best, succeeds, 

And seldom proves the winner ; 
Seldom attains that higher grade, 
By worthier inner life portrayed ; 
And in life's general masquerade 

Seems always a beginner. 

Could but the promptings of that inner self 

Be shown in pristine beauty, 
Such words — such works 'twould to the world reveal, 
As would in shadows of eclipse conceal 

All past attempts at duty ; 
183 



184 MY OTHER SELF. 

AVould charm tlie sight and inner sense, 
With an acme of excellence 
Known only to Omnipotence, 
In scenes of dazzling beauty. 

And thus eacli day and hour I still endure 

This constant war internal — 
The inner striving with the outer life, 
And ne^er attaining;, 'mid its earnest strife, 

Yict'ry o'er th' external. 
Seldom, despite each prayer and tear. 
Seeming to realize, while here, 
A foretaste of that hallow'd sphere 

Of purest bliss eternal. 

AVhen one who heard unlawful words for man, 

Attained to the third heaven, 
Lest too secure might grow his hope of bliss 
In worlds to come, a " thorn of flesh," in this, 

To him was wisely given ; 
And when he prayed it might removed be, 
The answer came — ^" Sufficient unto thee 
My grace both now and evermore shall be, 

Till Life's frail cord is riven !" 



MY OTHER SELF. 185 

Then slum tlioii not, aspiring inner self, 

This war of flesh with spirit 1 
God's sov'reign grace to all sufficient proves ; 
In mercy ever chastening whom He loves ; 

The measure of thy merit 
Shall not escape His righteous view ; 
And if thou faithful prove, and true, 
Ever thy own appointed due 

Thou shalt inherit. 
16* 



OUR FATHER. 

" The world has been tbovisands of years, and not yet learned 
the first two words of the Lord's prayer ; and not until all tribes 
and nations have learned these, will His kingdom come, and His 
will be done on earth, as it is in heaven." — H. B. Stowe. 



" OuK Father !" Name by childhood breathed 

Around the homestead hearth ! 
The guardian kind, whose care defends 

That sacred spot of earth. 

" Our Father !" Thus the Saviour prayed I 

Thus He taught us to pray, 
When asking of our heavenly Guide 

Our "daily bread each day." 

" Our Father !" "Words unheeded oft ! 

Yet, did we own their power, 
'Twould keep the soul's dread foes at bay 

In dark temptation's hour. 
186 



OUR FATHER. 187 

" Our Father !" Teach us thus to pray, 

When angry passions burn 
Within our hearts, for injuries 

They'd prompt us to return ! 

" Our Father I" Let us not forget 

How strong that sacred tie, 
When a neglected brother claims 

Our active sympathy ! 

" Our Father !" Let us learn their worth ! 

For never, until then, 
Can we e'er realize on earth 

Peace and good will to men. 



THE AVEECK OF A BROKEN LIFE. 



Methought I stood upon life's ocean strand, 
And rnark'd a helpless object, far from land, 

Amid its angry strife ; 
Eudely the billows heav'd it to and fro; 
The wreck, of all wrecks direst here below — 

That of a broken life. 

I saw it in the swelling surges toss'd ; 

With shatter'd masts, torn sails, and rudder lost- 
Daring the briny foam ; 

I saw it striving on its dangerous way, 

To seek the entrance of some port or bay 
That might conduct it home. 

Ko cheering pharos warn'd from danger dread; 
All human aid had fail'd — all hope had fled 

In any earthly power ; 
But still it struggled ; — striving yet to save 
Itself from death beneath the foaming wave, 

In that dark, threat'ning hour. 
188 



THE WEECK OF A BROKEN LIFE. 189 

All vain the strife — its fury would not cease ; 
No waken'cl sleeper yet had murmur'd — " Peace 1" 

That Sleeper, still uncall'd, 
Could not befriend in that portentous hour, 
Because the struggling victim spurn'd liis power, 

Though dangers dire appalTd. 

Then I discern'd, upon the billows high, 
The Ark of Safety riding fearlessly — 

Its Pilot at the helm ; 
That dauntless Pilot, that unerring Guide, 
Who can protect against Avhatever tide 

May threaten to overwhelm. 

And then, methought, that wreck He yearn'd to bless, 
Rais'd timidly its signal of distress, 

And rais'd it not in vain ; 
For soon, within the Ark His strong; arm drew 
That sinking wreck ; rebuk'd, and whisperd, too, 

" Peace to the angry main !" 

That Sleeper and that Pilot both are one ; 
They bear the rescued now securely on 

Toward an eternal shore ; 
In vain the storms arise — the tempests blow ; 
'Neath His protection it no fear can know; 

Its perils all are o'er. 



190 THE WKECK OF A BROKEN LIFE. 

Ye broken life-wrecks, with a care as true, 

The same unerring Pilot waits for you ; 
Waits to convey you home ; 

Fear not to enter His all-saving Ark ; 

That Ark protects from ev'ry tempest dark- 
Each danger that may come. 



WHITE SWEARING. 



There is a legend, old, and quaint, and rustic, 

A legend of a lad, 
Who, taking once his airy flight through dream-land, 

This curious vision had: 

He dream'd that he had died and gone to judgment; 

And that with him did come 
All th' unnumber'd hosts of earth and heaven, 

To hear their final doom. 

And one was there, arraigned for white-lying; 

Or telling lies in jest ; 
Who on the left was plac'd — 'mongst other culprits, 

When past the solemn test. 

This was a dream — yet I have often wonder'd 

If such the fate must be 
Of the white-liar, what shall the white-swearer 



In other regions see ? 



191 



192 WHITE SWEARING. 

Some " goody-good folks," wlio would shrink and 
shudder, 

A real oath to hear, 
Seem to indulge the practice of wliite-swearing, 

Untrammell'd by a fear. 

They swear by slamming doors and throwing objects 

That happen in their way ; 
They swear by modest little oaths, invented 

For Christians (?) such as they. 

Can the same fount hold waters sweet and bitter ? 

Not readily, I ween ! 
Then look you to the source from whence proceedeth 

Such outbursts of the spleen ! 

I do not wish to meddle or be curious. 

But can't help wondering here — 
What is the penalty, when for white-swearing 

The guilty must appear. 



INDEPENDENCE MUST HAYE LIMITS. 



" Independence must have limits 1" 

Says the caviller at right — • 
" Lay aside your sword and helmet ! 

Cease to don your armor bright ! 
Combats, carried to excesses, 

Never yet did any good ; — 
Seek not to obtain redresses. 

E'en at cost of your heart's blood 1 
Guard ye well each daring action ! 

Guard ye each undaunted word ! 
Guard them ! lest in feeling's fountain 

Bitter draughts ye may have stirred," 

Independence must have limits ! 

Was it thus our father's taught ? 
Was it such a Declaration 

They to England's sov'reign brouglit? 
Prompted by this cowardly motto, 

Struggled they for liberty ? 
17 193 



194 INDEPENDENCE MUST HAVE LIMITS. 

Did they by such half-way prowess, 

Yanquish Britain's tyranny ? 
[No ! their Stoic independence 

Proudly spurned such cringing laws- 
Fortunes, lives, and sacred honor — 
All they pledged in Freedom's cause. 

Independence must have limits ! 

Yes ! when Error's reign is o'er ; 
When fair Truth, by ber untrammell'd, 

Eises to be crushed no more ; 
When, like disembodied spirits, 

Suffering humanity 
From all outrage and oppression 

Boasts herself forever free ; 
When no more, o'er earth and ocean, 

Contumely's war trumpet sounds ; — 
Then, and not until that moment, 

Independence may have bounds. 



THE EXODUS OF THE NINETEENTH 
CENTURY. 

The exodus of the slave will be through the Red Sea." — Lovejoy. 



Blood! blood! blood! 

How flows that crimson tide ! 
Oh, when will the sources that swell its streams 

E'er cease to be supplied ? 
Must perish another " Pharaoh's host," 
In its terrible depths thus fiercely toss'd, 
While " Israel's oppressed " on dry land are cross'd ? 

Blood! blood! blood! 

Groans ! groans ! groans ! 

How they load th' ambient air ! 
While ascends to heaven's eternal throne 

Each agonizing prayer ! 

For eighty years have such groans been heard, 

Such bitter groans from our South-land pour'd, 

Yet Columbia's bosom was scarcely stirr'd ! 

Groans! groans! groans! 
195 



196 THE EXODUS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 

Death ! death ! deatli ! 

What fearful numbers fall ! 
AVhen to Adam's enslaved a ransom came, 

One Life atoned for all ! 
Then must so many loved be lost — 
So many thresholds by sorrow cross'd, 
Ere our nation redeems what her crime has cost ? 

Death I death I death ! 

Grief ! grief ! grief ! 

List to those deep-drawn sighs ! 
Korth, South, East, West — in war-drear'd homes, 

Successively they rise ! 
Such grief, such tears have long been known 
In cotton-fields — in rice-swamps lone ; — 
Now from Afric's to Europe's race they've flown ! 

Grief ! grief ! grief ! 

Tears ! tears ! tears ! 

How copiously they flow ! 
Wrung from heart-depths, their founts are stirr'd 

By keenest mental woe ! 
Baptized in blood and tears, our land 
In future years, may firmer stand, 
Chasten'd by an avenging Hand ! 

Tears ! tears ! tears ! 



THE EXODUS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 197 

Light! light! light! 

It breaks through darkest gloom ! 
It pledges America's enslaved 

Freedom in Freedom's home I 
Author of light ! oh, bless that raj ! 
Guide it upon its heavenward way, 
Till it attains to perfect day 1 

Light! light! light! 
17* 



m MEMOEIAM. 

Died, at Fortress Monroe, Va., of Typhoid Fever, on the 18th of 
1st month, 18G2, in the 25th year of his age, Dr. Ohas. K. Thomas, 
of 11th Pa, Cavalry. — At Camp Pierpont, Va., 1st month, 28th, 
1862, in the 19th year of his age, of Brain Fever, Benj. H. Roberts, 
of the 4th Reg. Penna. Reserves. — At Hilton Head, Port Royal, 
S. C, on the 30th of 1st month, of Typhoid Fever, Sergeant Gerritt 
S. Hambleton, of the 9Yth Reg. P. V., aged 22 years. 

Give thanks 
That they are safe with Him who hath the power 
O'er pain and sin and death. — L. II. Sigourney, 



Peacefully they slumber now ! 

Peaceful, 'neath the valley's clod ! 
Pallid, cold, each manly brown ! 

Priceless spirits gone to God. 
From the camp's excitement free, 

From its dangers and its toils, 
In celestial liberty. 

Safe from all the Tempter's foils. 
198 



IN MEMORIAM. 199 

'Twas not theirs to do and dare 

On the gory battle-plain ; 
'Twas not theirs to perish where 

Thousands of the brave are slain. 
But did they less truly die 

In their country's righteous cause, 
Answering her earnest cry, 

Aiding; to sustain her laws? 

Was the sacrifice less great, 

They upon her altar laid, 
Than the heroes who in state 

Wait a nation's homage paid ? 
Ask the stricken mourners left 

Weeping for their early dead ! 
Ask the circles thus bereft 

Of their brilliant " earth-stars " fled I 

Ask our country's future good 

When hostilities shall cease ; 
And her noblest brotherhood 

Hail with joy the dawn of peace I 
Costly treasures these to yield I 

Worthy of the richest gain ! 
May the forum and the field 

Prove them yielded not in vain ! 



AFTER THE BATTLE. 



The smoke-cloud is merged in tlie pure ether sea, 

And bushed the artillery's rattle; 
And Luna looks down with a face calmly pale, 

On the gory field after the battle. 
Low, low on the clayey bed, red with their blood. 

Friend and foe, horse and rider are 1/ing ; 
While e'er and anon, a heart-rending groan 

Tells the fate of the wounded and dying. 

On Fancy's light wing let us soar o'er that spot 

Renown'd in Columbia's story ; 
Let us gaze for a while on that carnage which shows 

Her record of shame and of glory ! 
Let us muse on each scene which the moonlight re- 
veals I 

Scenes that make the heroic heart tremble; 
Scenes that waken the deep fount of feeling within — 

Such feeling we would not dissemble. 
200 



AFTER THE BATTLE. 201 

Here lies one with a miniature 'neatli his cold hand, 

Of a lovely and beautiful woman ; — 
Did his warrior's heart love that being in life, 

With a fervor the deepest that's human ? 
Was that prototype loving friend, sister, or wife ? 

(Too youthful it seems for his mother) ; 
These myst'ries we never may know in this life : 

They await the pure light of another. 

And here, with his Bible worn close to his breast, 

Another in silence reposes ; 
That Bible — few words might the history tell, 

Which e'en now it in silence discloses. 
'Twas the gift of his mother — her last, parting gift. 

Which she bade him to love and to cherish; 
And that treasure he bore as he bravely went forth 

The foremost in battle to perish. 

Here are two ; in death's slumber they rest side by 
side ; 

Yet no contrast could e'er have been greater ; 
For one is enrob'd in a patriot's garb, 

The other the garb of a traitor. 
Why is this ? Was the conflict so fearful that thus 

In mutual embrace they have perished ? 
Or did mem'ry recall a friendship, that e'en 

'Mid rebellion and strife had not perished. 



202 AFTER THE BATTLE. 

And this, tliis is war! sucli as fair Avon's bard, 

So famed in poetical story, 
In language of pathos hath made to possess 

Pomp, circumstance, undying glory. 
God spare our loved country more glory like this ! 

From such circumstance, pomp, e'er defend her 1 
And instead, the bright ensigns of Freedom and 
Peace 

Sustain in their unfading splendor. 



NAYIS EEPUBLICJa. 



Navis Eepublicse ! Why sails she now, 
Shatter 'd her timbers all, from stern to prow ? 
Stormy the sea she plows, low'ring her sky ? 
Hanging portentous clouds o'er her on high ? 
Who's her commander now ? Who are" her crew? 
Are they not brave as wont, faithful and true? 
Where are her Jeffersons, Franklins, and Lees ? 
Carrolls of Carrollton ? Are none of these 
Near her to succor her ere she shall wreck ? 
Whence comes yon pirate crew, thronging her deck ? 
Blood is upon that deck — blood stains each wave 
That 'gainst her creaking keel madly doth lave ! 
Ha ! still her banner waves ! See I aright ? — 
Pierc'd through with bullet-holes ! Ah ! what a 

sight — 
Grieving my spirit thus ! — Mount Vernon's son, 
Navis, sucli fate for thee ne'er would have known ; 
Tell me what foreign foe dar'd to assail 
Thus our loved " stars and stripes," braving the gale ? 

203 



204: NAVIS KEPUBLIC^. 

Navis Republic^e ! Her signal bell 

Eings out the solemn words — " All is not well I" 

"Set, "Pater Patrse," no foreign foe 

Dealt on our ensign proud that cowardly blow ; 

Pierc'd it with bullet-holes ; — Mount Vernon's heir — 

Sire — thine own flesh and blood helped place them 

there ; 
Treason hath madden'd them — made their hearts 

cold ; 
Summon'd in serried ranks Arnolds of old ; 
Forth from protection strong madly they've flown, 
Bailt in a frenzied hour craft of their own ; — 
Raised amid pond'rous masts their " stars and bars ;" 
Taunted insultingly our " stripes and stars." 
Vainly our Middletons, Hancocks, Treat Paines, 
Prescotts and Sullivans, Putnams and Waynes, 
Rise in defence of her, manning each post, 
Vowing their gallant ship shall not be lost. 
Spirit of Washington, patriot sire, 
Tell us, while dimly burns Liberty's fire, 
Why gains each leak so fast ? Can nothing save ? 
Must our storm-shatter'd barque sink 'neath the 

wave ? 

Navis RepublicaB ! In days of yore 
Was it for this we such sacrifice bore ? 



NAVIS KEPUBLIC^. 205 

All tliat was clearest pledged — all to sustain 
Thee, our own fragile barque, daring the main ? 
Strong hast thou grown since then — what means this 

strife ? — 
Homicide— Fratricide threat'ning thy life? 
Ha ! Now I see it all ! Now I behold I 
Mark ye yon dusky forms crowding her hold ! 
Panting for liberty — Heaven's free air ! 
Think ye to save the ship while they are there? 
Shame, shame upon you all ! Do ye not know 
Crime such as this can't avert Heaven's blow ? 
Quick ! — Cast the life-boats forth into the sea ! 
Bid all take refuge there who would be free ! 
Give them their " turn at pump," aiding to save 
Ere your tossed vessel is lost 'neath the wave ! 
Sad was the oversight, barque of the free, 
When such a heritage left we to thee. 
Ha ! they're obeying now ! Captain, well done ! 
Now may thy vessel move fearlessly on, 
Purging iniquity, cleansing each stain — 
Claiming God's blessing forever. Amen ! 
18 



WHEN THE WAE ENDS. 



When this bloody war is ended, 
When this sanguine strife is o'er, 

When the din and shock of battle 
Through our land resounds no more : 



When dethroned, foul-hearted Treason 



Fills an ignominious tomb ; 
And the hordes that raised his banner 

Justly meet a traitor's doom, 
Will there be throughout our nation, 

One blest home from anguish free? 
Anguish caused by mad rebellion, 

And inhuman butchery ; 
One fond heart unscathed by sorrow. 

One bright eye, undimmed by tears; 
Tears shed for some slain beloved one. 

Sacrificed in manhood's years ? 
206 



WHEN THE WAR ENDS. 207 

" When the war ends " — writes the soldier 

To his cherished friends and home ; 
" When, through Slavery's dominions 

'Tis no more my lot to roam ; 
When my country's call is answered, 

When her victories are won ; 
And the dawn of peace proclaimeth 

That th' warrior's task is done ; 
Then to home's alluring precincts, 

Trust I safely to return, 
Joying that throughout our nation 

Freedom's watch-fires brightly burn." 
Hopeful words ! — Words fitly spoken 

By the loyal-hearted brave ! 
But how often hushed to silence 

In a laurell'd hero's grave. 

When this cruel war is ended, 

When its horrid scenes are o'er, 
Blushingly, my mother country, 

Blushingly wilt thou deplore 
That, within thy truthful annals 

Thou a record must retain 
Of a crime so dark and damning 

Nought but blood could cleanse the stain ; 



208 WHEN THE WAR ENDS. 

That, in fratricidal conflict, 

Fiercely, desperately strove 
Sons whom thy fond bosom nurtur'd — • 

Sons who shared thy common love ; 
That against thy star-gemmed banner, 

All ungratefully arose 
Arms that should for aye have shielded 

That proud ensign from its foes. 

A¥hen the war ends — who can tell us 

When and where that end shall be ? 
Heaven decrees its termination — 

UNIVEESAL LIBERTY I 
Freemen, will ye dare to falter 

Till that high decree's fulfilled ? 
If ye dare, then worse than vainly 

Has your precious blood been spilled ! 
Worse than vainly, friends and kindred, 

Mothers, sisters, daughters, wives, 
Mourn ye those who in this contest, 

Bravely, freely, yield their lives. 
Choose to-day then ! — Choose betAveen them. 

Whom to serve ! — Who is your Lord ? 
Choose ye Baal ? — Share his curses! 

Choose ye God ? — His high rewards ! 



FOET PILLOW. 

" For the devil is come do-wn unto you, having great wrath, be- 
cause he knoweth that he hath but a short time." — Rev. xii. 12. 



MOUENFUL tidings from our borders! Mournful 

tidings from the West ! 
Tidings of the cowardly slaughter of our bravest and 

our best ! 
Draping the dark pall of sorrow over homesteads 

richly blest. 

Mournful tidings ! Ah, how mournful ! when our 

shrinking mental sight 
Marks, in all their ghastly horror, in their soul-ap 

palling might, 
Visions of the charred and mangled victims of that 

treach'rous fight. 
18* 209 



210 FORT PILLOW. 

Happy omen of thy future, shattered, suff''ring coun- 
try mine, 

Omen of a purer freedom proffered unto thee and 
thine — 

Seek ye, sinful generation, for a more propitious 
sign ? 

See ye not on yon dark war-cloud, even now, the 
arching bow. 

Pledging us the speedy triumph of Eebellion's over- 
throw ? 

Triumph o'er the craven spirit that can scourge a 
fallen foe. 

See ye not the cast-out demon, writhing, foaming in 
its wrath. 

Maddened by its desperation, deeply conscious that 
it hath 

But a short time yet to linger in its dang'rous, down- 
ward path ? 

Patience, then, ye toiling millions ! Pray for pa- 
tience once again ! 

Though still louder clank the fetters of Oppression's 
galling chain — 

Patience ! for that louder clanking marks their sever- 



FORT PILLOW. 211 

Heaven knows what ye have suffered ! Heaven will 

the crime avenge — 
Conscious that these darksome moments but foretell 

a brighter change, 
Grant we to our erring brother rather pity than 

revenge. 

Heaven knows what ye have suffered ! Only 
Heaven now doth know 

What we're destined all to suffer, ere is dealt the 
final blow, 

Hurling to its sure destruction, this, our direst, dead- 
liest foe. 

But that blow will fall as surely as a just God reigns 

above — 
Chastened then, but not despairing, let us wait the 

hour to prove 
That these Fatherly corrections all contain a Father's 

love. 



DUE DEAD HEROES. 

They never fail who die in a good cause." 



I COME not now to tell the mournful story 
Of the renowned and nation-honored dead ; 

Who, in th' acme of their fame and glory, 
In Freedom's cause have bled. 

All honor to the vet'raus, loyal, fearless, 

Whose lives within our country's shrine are lain ; 

Who, with undaunted prowess, truly peerless, 
Led forth her martial train. 

More gifted pens unite to do them rev'rence, 
More able voices join in notes of praise ; 

I would not then aspire, amid such cadence, 
To swell my humble lays. 

Mine be the task to chant, in dirge-like numbers, 

A requiem for th' unlauded brave — 
The humbler hero, who now calmly slumbers ^ 

In some unnoticed grave. 
212 



OUR DEAD HEROES. 213 

Some peaceful sleeper 'neath the restless waters 
Of a famed river, creek, or surging bay; 

Mourn'd by fond sisters, mother, wife, or daughters, 
In homes, far, far away. 

Some patient sufferer in rebel prison, 
In Fed'ral hospital, or fort, or camp; — 

Whose fervent prayers for Truth's advance have 
risen. 
As wan'd life's flickering lamp. 

Some wounded champion on the field of battle, 
Falling unheeded 'mid the carnage dread ; 

And moaning out, unheard, the drear death-rattle 
Upon his gory bed. 

Or some lone picket, faithful to his duty. 
Treading in silence his appointed round ; 

Musing on home-scenes love has clothed in beauty; 
Till, on death's mission bound, 

A fatal bullet from a rebel weapon, 

Gleaming like lightning through the mid-night 
gloom. 
Dissolves his faith-illumined visions halcyon, 

In sight beyond the tomb. 



214 OUR DEAD HEROES. 

Braves such as these, are daily, honrly falling ; 

Their eulogies unsung, their names unknown ; 
Their blood, like righteous Abel's, loudly calling 

Unto Jehovah's throne. 

For them my pen would trace these dirge-like meas- 
ures, 
For them my soul in sympathy would burn 
With 'reft ones, mourning for their household treas- 
ures, 
That nevermore return. 

Such are the gems, my loved, but guilty nation, 
From fond and yearning hearts remorseless torn, 

To pay the price of thy regeneration, 
Thy second natal morn. 

Thy infant life in pristine freshness glowing, 

By blood and tears its advent mark'd on earth ; — 

Blood, blood and tears the advent are foreshowing. 
Of this, thy purer birth. 

In Adam thou hast died ; in Christ reviving. 
Go forth triumphant on thy heavenward way 1 

Incessantly 'gainst sin and evil striving. 
Press on to perfect day ! 



OUE DEAD HEROES. 215 

Thou sliouldst " love much ;" for great has been thy 
error — 

Chasten'd by this severe internal strife ; 
Emerging from this Modern " Keign of Terror," 

Live thou a truer life 1 



WHAT I SAW, HEARD, AND THOUGHT, 

AT THE THIRD ANTI-SLAVERY DECADE HELD IN CONCERT 
HALL, PHILADA., DECEMBER Scl and Ull, 1863. 



This is tlie place — tlie ball where many a scene 
Like to the present has enacted been ; 
Bat not in times like these — for thirty years 
These champions for truth, 'mid taunts and jeers, 
'Mid persecutions, scoffs, and proud disdain, 
Hoping 'gainst hope, yet deeming nothing vain 
That might promote the cause they had espoused, 
Or thwart the demon that their zeal aroused — 
Have firmly stood — a small, but dauntless band. 
Pledged to the right, united, heart and hand, 
'Gainst the foul crime polluting all our land. 
Careless spectators oft the scene surveyed, 
Idly regretting, needlessly dismayed 
By the loud clamor opposition made. 

216 



217 



While some, like me, with zealous ardor fired, 

Have stood aloof, and silently admired. 

Have stood aloof! been silent ! And for why ? 

Not from a lack of kindred sympathy ; 

Though time there was — with shame I it confess — 

When I discerned not Christ's true righteousness 

In aught of this. In early life 'twas thus, 

False education made me what I was ; — 

But later years, thank God, a change have wrought ; 

All prejudice o'ercome, I now am brought 

To sit with them as one in feeling, thought. 

I've stood aloof, been silent, but for this — 

A painful sense of my unworthiness ; 

My own unfitness for so great a task ; 

And though I now most gladly doff' the mask 

That long has screened me, I'd be silent still — - 

Content to manifest my ready will 

To sit and listen as eacli speaker's voice 

Salutes my ear ; and inwardly rejoice 

That right at last has triumphed over might — 

That morn has dawned after so dark a night. 

And mine is not the only heart thus changed. 

That lonff has been an alien and estran2;ed 

From truth's great sbeep-fold. Mark ye not around 

What order reigns ? What interest profound 
19 



218 WHAT I SAW, HEAEI), AND THOUGHT. 

Enwraps the throng, save when prolonged applause 
Salutes some earnest champion of the cause ? 

What's wrought the change ? From Sumter's war- 
scathed walls 
The answer comes. In thunder-tones it foils 
On startled ears — " They who refuse to hear 
The voice of justice when the sky is clear, 
'Mid blood and carnage shall that voice revere I" 

The morning session's o'er, else I might tell 
How on my ears the written message fell, 
Of him, " The Quaker Bard of Amesbury," 
And other advocates of liberty ; 
But I'll content me with what's yet to be. 
What objects meet my gaze ? Upon yon stand, 
An auction- block for slaves — bane of our land-^ 
Is brought to view ! What stories it might tell 
Of grief and horror! But I may not dwell 
Upon them now. One of more just renown— 
A life-like portrait of the martyr, Brown — 
Hangs just beyond it. 'Tis a happy thought 
That thus in close proximity has brought, 
As if by contrast, objects so remote 
In worth and meaning — bidding us denote 
That mute memento of past woe and crime, 
And this, of deeds heroic and sublinae. 



WHAT I SAW, HEAKD, AND THOUGHT. 219 

A voice is heard ; and one whose worthy name 
Has long been coupled with abase and blame — 
Columbia's children, be it to your shame! — 
Returning good for evil in this hour 
When his loved cause is gaining strength and power, 
Slav'ry's undaunted foe, Lloyd Garrison, 
Welcomes the audience in kindest tone. 

A speaker he announces — List to him ! 
Of unpretending name — J. M. McKim ! 
Yet at that name the hearts of millions thrill ! 
Hear him as he relates how, through God's will, 
He has been led into the path he treads, 
Thus showering blessings on the humblest heads. 
Within his voice how much of kindness reigns! 
And yet, methinks, his speech a fiuilt contains; 
I'd tell it here — a little cloud he names 
This mighty movement 'gainst oppression's aims, 
Not larger in the past than human hand. 
And spreading now abroad o'er all the land. 
I'd rather he had said — -The glimm'ring light 
Which now is growing brighter and more briglit ; 
For see ! The clouds are all dispelling now, 
'Mid war's loud thunders; while, on Freedom's brow 
A brighter halo and a more divine 
Than e'er was hers must in the future shine. 



220 WHAT I SAW, HEARD, AND THOUGHT. 

Footsteps resound along the spacious aisle, 
The speaker's earnest tones are hushed a while, 
As pass, with measured tread, a retinue 
Of sable forms arrayed in army blue ; 
A delegation from Camp Wm. Penn, 
Under command of Sergeant Brown — brave men ! 
A welcome they receive on ev'ry hand, 
As they advance ; upon the speaker's stand 
Are seats prepared for that heroic band. 
While o'er their heads that ensign's colors blend, 
"Which they have sworn to die or to defend. 
Tears dim my eyes — tears from the inward strife 
Caused by this foretaste of celestial life ; 
A life where caste and color are unknown, 
Save as a unit 'round the " Great White Throne." 

Another name's announced — and Mary Grew, 
One of the faithful, patient, toiling few 
Who've borne their weary burden in the heat 
Comes forth with brief but earnest words, to greet 
Each eager list'ner ; and contrast this hour 
With that in which our subtle foe had power. 

Anon another one — Samuel J. May ; 
A Reverend he is termed, and yet, how gay. 
How full of wit and merriment doth seem 
His words and manner for so grave a theme; 



WHAT I SAW, HEARD, AND THOUGHT. 221 

But mark you, 'ueath that sparkling eloquence 

An under-current flows — a consciousness 

Of the great burden 'tis his lot to bear, 

Eesponsibilities 'tis his to share ; 

Yet mingling it with mirth — we'll trust him, then, 

As far, and farther than some graver men. 

^ow comes forth one — ne'er let her be forgot — • 
That vet'ran in the cause — Lucretia Mott ; 
From youth to age, e'er faithful to the right, 
To the true guidance of the " inner light," 
Clad in her modest Quaker garb, she seems 
Like some chaste spirit one beholds in dreams. 
Hear her, as with deep pathos she doth tell 
Each sad experience ; and anon doth dwell 
On scenes more ludicrous in by- gone years. 
Exciting in their turn both mirth and tears; — 
Enlisting ev'ry heart in the good cause. 
She takes her seat amid prolonged applause. 

The morning dawns ! And yet its dawnings bright 

Hide not the radiance of another light 

Upon Truth's watchtower — modest though its mien, 

As H. Ward Beecher comes upon the scene. 

His words are few ; yet fraught with weight and 

power; 

A world-acknowleged champion for this hour, 
19"^ 



222 WHAT I SA\V, HEARD, AND THOUGHT. 

When light and darkness, in a bloody strife, 
Hold in their hands our nation's death or life. 
Blessings upon liim ! Aye, and God will bless 
Sueh faithful teachers of his righteousness. 

Next Chas. C. Burleigh's deep-toned voice is heard ; 
Is there a soul within its sound not stirred 
By its pure eloquence ? A heart not fired 
With the true zeal his language has inspired ? 

But I must haste me ! Speakers multiply 
Upon me here, and I must pass them by ; 
Save but to note the names of Anthony, 
The Fosters, Powell, Wagner, Stone, and she, 
One of the noblest women of her age — 
The Freedman's earnest helper — F. D. Gage. 
And Johnson, too, whose editorial pen 
And fluent tongue so oft have claimed for men 
Rights, equal rights, their God-appointed due, 
Whatever be their nation, clime, or hue. 

The evening session — See ! an alien stands 
Upon the platform — not from foreign lands ; 
But alienated by a tainted blood 
That man's weak judgment has pronounced not good ! 
'Tis Robert Purvis I Though his words are few. 
They mark the gentleman, the patriot true; 
Asking that God a country yet may save. 
Who ne'er to him and his protection gave. 



WHAT I SAW, HEAED, AND THOUGHT. 223 

Now Tilton's voice is heard ; one young in years, 
Bift old in wisdom, on the stage appears ; 
Mark ye that manly face, whose poet soul 
Illumes each lineament, seems to control 
His ey^rj word and act ! How brilliantly 
His burning words, denouncing slavery, 
Sparkle with gems of truth and poesy ! 

Another still from 'mongst the good and great, 
Senator Wilson of the old " Bay State," 
In Congress halls e'er true to Freedom's cause, 
Eises 'mid rounds of deafening applause ; 
A statesman's logic it is his to wield, 
Adapted more to forum than to field ; 
And savoring much of practical good sense, 
Destined to win a nation's confidence. 

Next Douglass stands — a living monument 
Of what man dare do, when his soul is rent 
By tortures wrought, on his clay tenement. 
Enough of Southern fire his speech contains, 
Enough of Afric's blood flows through his veins 
To make impressive, while it entertains. 
His speech, gesticulation. Spoke he, then, 
A sentence ; I would name it here again ; — 
" Tlie day, the hour is not yet passed," said he, 
In which is coupled much of infamy 



224 WHAT I SAW, HEARD, AND THOUGHT. 

With him, the true and tried philanthropist, 
The scorned, world-hated Abolitionist." 
Thanks, dusky orator, those words of thine 
Have proved consoling to this soul of mine ; — 
Then I am not the sneaking coward I thought. 
Seeking, at this late hour, where long have wrought 
These earnest, faithful laborers in the sun, 
A tranquil entrance when the work is done ; 
Thanks, thanks to thee ! I gladly now will share 
Whate'er of scorn, reproach, 'tis yours to bear ; 
Joying that I'm thought worthy with the rest, 
To suffer and endure for Christ's oppressed. 

Anon, another voice salutes my ear. 
And Annie Dickinson's clear tones I hear ; 
That fearless one, whose touching eloquence 
Has won for her a path to eminence. 
Soth to her sex, and to her country true, 
Answering the question — " What can woman do ?" 
She closes; could not found a brighter goal, 
This feast of reason, and tliis flow of soul. 

I leave this scene v/ith feelings of regret ; 
One which, while life endures, I'll not forget; 
For, whate'er pleasures yet my lot befall, 
Methinks I'll ever place above them all. 
My intellectual feast in Concert Hall. 



FEOM GETTYSBUKG. 



" There's the carrier, Lottie ! The news of to-day 
He's bringing! Then, haste, lay your sewing away, 
And read to me, darling! You know that my 

sight 
Is failing ; and since, in the mansions of light 
Your mother awaits us ; and Edward has gone 
A warrior for freedom, our home had seemed lone. 
But for you, gentle daughter, whose duties, well 

borne, 
Have enlivened the gloom that it else might have 

worn. 
Then read to me, darling! You're all I've left, now, 
To smooth the deep furrows care leaves on my 

brow. 
Have Yicksburg, Port Hudson, surrendered ? And 

. say!— 
How progresses the war in the ' Keystone ' to-day ? 

225 



226 FROM GETTYSBURG. 

Is Lee's army vaiiquisli'd ? Are bis hordes driven 

back ? 
Or are rebel invaders still scenting oar track ? 
You're silent — you're pale — does the news give you 

pain !" — 
"Dearest father, I fear brother Edward is slain! 
Here's his regiment — -name — aye, 'tis certainly he ! 
He was second lieutenant of Company C." 
"Great Father, have pity! — My brave, noble boy, 
Once the pride of my heart, once a fond mother's 

joy- 
Is he in the vigor of manhood laid low 
By the murderous fire of a traitorous foe? 
Must he silently rest' neath the valley's cold clod — 
A martyr to freedom, to truth, and to God ? 
His mother, perchance — but, no ! I'll not say 
What she might have done, bad she lived till the 

day 
"When he asked for permission to join in the strife 
'Gainst the poison — the bane of our national life — ■ 
I fought under Perry — then could I forbear 
To grant the consent that he asked ? Could I dare 
To restrain his young feet from the path that I trod ? 
Ko ! I gave him to Liberty — gave him to God 1 



FROM GETTYSBURG. 227 

My ofF'ring's accepted ; then why should I crave 
To possess it again ? I'll be brave ! I'll be brave ! 
For us is the suff 'ring, for him the relief ! 
Then how vain is our sorrow ! how seltish our 

grief! 
The Union star brightens — then, though he be slain, 
His precious young life-blood was not shed in vain ! 
Dear Lottie, I'm trembling — I'm cold — ^and my sight 
Grows dim and yet dimmer — a marvellous light 
Greets my vision internal — my wife^and my son." — 
Christ shield thee, young mourner, so fragile and 

lone ! 
Christ shield thee, and all who like thee hourly 

mourn 
The lov'd ones who've reach'd the mysterious 

bourne ! 
Ah, well! 'tis but brief! When life's burden's laid 

down. 
The more pond'rous the cross the more glitt'ring the 

crown ; 
And martyrs for truth shall eternally stand 
With the blood-ransom'd throng at Jehovah's right 
hand.' 



STRENGTH THEOUGH ADVERSITY. 

" Strong grows the oak in the sweej^ing storm ; 

Safely the flower sleeps under the snow ; 
And the farmer's hearth is never Warm, 

Till the cold winds start to blow." 

Holland's Bitter Sweet. 



Heir to a boon immortal — fellow heir, 

Some words of kindly cheer I'd proffer thee ; 
Would seek thy spirit in communion, where 

It may seek mine — in kindred sympathy. 
Hast thou ne'er felt, when anguish ruled the hour, 

And life seem'd wear}^, lonely, dark, and drear ; 
A want of trust in an Omniscient Power, 

A vague uncertainty, a nameless fear, 
A wav'ring faith in Him, the Ruler of our sphere? 

Stung with ingratitude, in spirit crush'd, 

When foes have triumph'd, and when friends 
have failed ; 
When vice o'er virtue stood with victory flush'd. 
And might 'gainst right on ev'ry side prevail'd ; 
228 



STEENGTH THROUGH ADVERSITY. 229 

"When, one by one, thy fondest aims o'ertlirown, 
Each earthly hope and aspiration died ; 

Within thy heart-depths hast thou never known 
A deep'ning interest in the True and Tried ? 

A yearning, yet a dread to seek the Crucfied ? 

I, too, have trod that path ; I, too, have felt 

That inward shrinking from the dread unknown ; 
Yearn'd for the confidence of those who knelt 

In humble foith before the Father's throne. 
I, too, have falter'd in my pilgrim course, 

When life's frail bubbles in my grasp have broke; 
When Jove's just chastenings have wrought remorse ; 

And I have bow'd and thank'd Him for the stroke ; 
Have found His burden light ; joy'd in His easy yoke. 

Have known my faith grow strong amid the storm ; 

Have found hope's blossoms safe beneath the 
snow ; 
Have felt my soul's recesses grow more warm, 

When cold and adverse winds relentless blow ; 
Freely, Jehovah says, as ye receive, 

Freely dispense unto your fellow-men. 
Such gifts, such blessings as can best relieve 

The doubting spirit in its sojourn, when, 
A wanderer from home, it would return again. 
20 



230 STRENGTH THEOUGIT ADVERSITY. 

And, as a traveller, who bewildered treads 

Lone and benighted o'er an unknown way ; 
When yonng Aurora her bright mantle spreads, 

Shedding abroad the dawning light of day ; 
Essays to cheer his fellow pilgrims o'er 

The dangerous pathway he himself hath trod ; — 
Sojourning traveller toward the peaceful shore, 

The pure, celestial city of our God — 
So would I solace thee in the dark path I've trod. 

Dost thou e'er tremble when the pall, the bier 

Wake in thy bosom visions of the hour 
That brings to thee the end of all things here ? 

When in the presence of unerring Power 
Thy soul shall stand, 'reft of its earthly clay ? — 

Tremble no more ! 'Tis better for for thee, 
When dawns at last that sure and final day. 

At a Divine than human bar to be; — 
Judged by a Sov'reign, just, and full of sympathy. 

That Sov'reign knows the willing spirit's strife, 
When the weak flesh would bid that spirit stray ; 

Directs its upward course from death to life. 
And guides its progress in the narrow way ; 



STRENGTH THROUGH ADVERSITY. 231 

And lie will lead that willing spirit forth, 

When transient earthly scenes dissolve from sight ; 

Freely vouchsafe the measure of its worth, 
And merge in glory of celestial light 

The darkness that so oft hath gloom'd our mental 
ni2;ht. 

And there is darkness brooding o'er our land ; 

A darkness that oft threatens to o'erwhelm ; 
A darkness that its fearful reign began, 

Almost coeval with our infant realm ; 
Its shades, extending with our nation's growth, 

Threw 'round her vitals a resistless spell ; 
To yield its hideous power seem'd ever loath ; 

At Sumter sought to toll her funeral knell, 
And more portentous grew when brave young Ells- 
worth fell. 

Its shadows broaden'd ; and its haughty crest 

Eose high ; when, marshalling his valiant train, 
The " lion-hearted " champion of the West 

Yielded his life on Springfield's battle- plain. 
It drap'd our Senate-halls in deepest gloom ; 

It hush'd therein a voice of eloquence ; 
And oped again the portals of the tomb. 

When Broderick's eulogist was summon'd hence, 
Sharini-- alike a nation's love and confidence. 



232 STRENGTH THROUGH ADVERSITY. 

Its pall grows blacker as we journey on 

Througli the Eed Sea of fratricidal blood ; 
As our best, noblest patriots, one by one, 

From their heart-fountains swell the crimson flood. 
But has this darkness, have these adverse gales. 

These dire Aceldamas throu2;hout our land 
Our inner life impair'd ? As each assails, 

Do we grow strong when Ave as victors stand ? 
Or when some rude repulse has met our warrior 
band ? 

Did we gain strength when Burnside's gallant corps 

The serried ranks of traitorous New Berne broke ? 
Or mark'd our cherish'd colors floating o'er 

The sea-girt shores of rebel Eoanoke? 
Did we gain strength when Donelson's dread scenes 

Echoed glad shouts on its redemption day ? 
Did we gain strength when crescent New Orleans 

Almost resistless yielded to our sway, 
And the glad tidings sped upon their joyous way ? 

Ah, no! relying on an arm of flesh, 

Proud " Worldly Wisdom " then presum'd to see 
Our martial thousands soon returning fresh 

From battle-fields elate with victory. 



STRENGTH THROUGH ADVERSITY. 233 

Yisions of a re-union like the past, 

Danc'd, gaily clanc'd before enamor'd eyes ; 

Peace on a basis that could never last ; 
A retrograde ; a cowardly compromise 

'Gainst liberty, that boon all honest patriots prize. 

'Twas not in hours like these we stronger grew ; 

For then the Tempter was alluring us 
To substitute the old wine for the new ; 

Error for truth ; and sin for righteousness. 
'Twas when, o'erwhelmed by Eichmond's crimson 
tide, 

Our decimated army sought retreat ; 
When, dauntless still, they to Antietam hied, 

A desperate, aggressive foe to meet, 
'Mid scenes with carnage, woe, and misery replete. 

When once again Manassas' bloody ground 

Was fiercely trod by a contending host ; 
When once again the cannon's booming sound 

Proclaim'd the fearful truth — " a battle lost !" 
When death, disaster, on all sides appall. 

And loyal bosoms were by anguish torn ; 
When suffering wounded to our Capitol, 

Mangled and bleeding, were by hundreds borne — ■ 

Then came our strength ; dawn'd our salvation morn. 
20* 



234 STRENGTH THROUGH ADVERSITY. 

'Twas then, and not till then, our Chieftain dar'd 

To issue that Immortal Document, 
For whose existence anxious hearts have shar'd 

In fervent pra3^er ; and whose wise intent 
Stood forth confess'd ;■ for then the nation's soul 

Rous'd from its morbid dreams and lethargy, 
No longer striving 'gainst Divine control, 

Echoed His fiat — " Make my people free ; — 
Wliat you would share, grant all — the boon of 
liberty !" 

Heir to a life eternal — fellow-heir, 

'Tis thus our Pilot would conduct us home ; 
'Tis thus He seeks to lead through faith and prayer, 

Unto the Father's house, whence we would roam ; 
When Gospel truth, when blessings fail to win 

The wayward child or nation that He loves, 
'Mid Sinai's thunders, 'mid contention's din. 

These signal benedictions Fie removes ; 
And thus, through adverse storms, oar frail depend- 
ence proves. 

Then let us trust Him ; howe'er dark the hour 
In which our trembling, fainting faith He tries; 

Howe'er portentous be the clouds that lower 
Above our heads; the greater sacrifice 



STRENGTH THROUGH ADVERSITY. 235 

We yield to Him, the greater the reward ; 

And though to us His ways seem mystery, 
And with our futile schemes but ill accord. 

Let us take courage ; well assured that He 
Will grant us grace and strength through our ad- 
versity. 



NOT KETURNED. 



His regiment returns to-day, they told me so last 

night, 
Who joy to welcome back again the vet'rans of the 

fight; 
In accents hushed they made it known, the cause if 

you would learn, 
His regiment returns to-day, but he does not return. 

It seems to me but yesterday, so swift time's flight 

has been, 
We trod life's pathway hand and hand, he ten and I 

fifteen ; 
He was my all ; for ere those days there came a time 

of tears, 
Yv^hen death removed, from earthly scenes, our stay 

in earlier years. 

236 



NOT EETURNED. 237 

And mother kissed her Gabriel, and father blessed 

his boy, 
And bade ine to protect through life our household 

pride and joy ; 
How swiftly he to manhood grew ! How brightly 

shone that mind ! 
Brightly as only beam the souls so soon for Heaven 

designed. 

My pride, my joy, my fondest hopes around him 

fondl}^ clung — 
God pardon if the homage due to Him the creature 

won ! — • 
Then came to us and thousands more, another time 

of tears. 
When ploughshares unto swords were turned, and 

pruning hooks to spears. 

Men left the anvil and the loom, the homestead hearth 

and all 
That rendered life most dear to them, to heed their 

country's call ; 
My idol stood among those men on that eventful 

day, 
Dear as he was, and young in years, I would not bid 

him stay. 



238 NOT KETUENED. 

I buckled on liis sword-belt, with a cold and nerve- 
less hand, 

And saw him proudly march away, one of a valiant 
band ; 

Then turned me with an aching heart from that dread 
scene away, 

Feeling that nought was left me now, save but to 
weep and pray. 

Time passed ; the war-cloud, rolling on, still dark, 

and darker grew ; 
Drenching our soil with precious blood of loyal, tried 

and true; 
While he, unscathed as yet by harm, stood firmly at 

his post, 
Yowing that he'd desert it not, whate'er might be the 

cost. 

And I, how eagerly I read the news each battle gave, 
Bringing my anxious cares to Him, whose power 

alone can save ; 
And then, as victory seemed more near, oh, how my 

spirit yearned 
To welcome back my darling, when his regiment re 

turned. 



NOT RETURNED. 



239 



That welcome I may never give ; but in the future 

dim 
My clierished one shall welcome me, when I shall go 

to him ; 
The cause is known ; the story sad I scarcely need to 

tell— 
You'll learn it from the mournful words— at Wilder- 
ness he fell. 

And stranger hands have buried him upon a stran- 
ger's soil — 
In an unnoticed grave he sleeps, free from all earthly 

toil — 
While deep into my throbbing heart these scathing 

words still burn — 
His regiment returns to-day, but he does not return. 

Sad record— one by millions borne— and millions yet 
to be, 

Will ponder oft those records o'er in grateful sympa- 
thy ; 

In sympathy for stricken hearts, that oft in secret 

yearn 
To greet their war-slain patriots, that never more 

return. 



OUE NATION'S GEIEF. 

" Oh, watch you well, by dajdight, 
By daylight you may fear ; 

But keep no watch in darkness, 
For angels then are near." 



Daylight and darkness — How tliey mingle here, 

To soothe our grief, or mitigate our joy ! 
'Luring us onward toward that purer sphere 

Of hallowed bliss, unmixed with an alloy. 
Daylight and darkness — They have come to us 

In all their force of brightness or of gloom ; 
Mingling the day-dawn's brilliant radiance 

With all the sombre shadows of the tomb. 

Daylight — How flashed its fair, auroral star ! 

Brighter and more resplendent burned its rays ! 
Though rendered lurid by the smoke of war, 

Men blessed its dawn and gave to God the praise. 
240 



OUR nation's grief. 241 

That dawn was darkened by one cloud, alone ; 

One only shadow did its glories wear — 
Sorrow for cherished ones forever gone — 

And that, long since, we'd nerved ourselves to hear. 

Then came the darkness — Ah, how swift it came ! 

Like thunderbolt from cloudless zenith sped 
The startling message — "Our loved Chieftain's 
slain ! 

By an assassin's hand his blood was shed. 
Eescued from murd'rous hands, our Premier lies, 

Maimed and disabled, on a bed of pain" — 
Can Freedom still demand suc"h sacrifice. 

Where human blood has deluged hill and plain ? 



a ) 



Tis false !" — Thus argued Faith in tones sublime, 

While struggling Hope essayed her cause to plead — • 
" E'en Treason could not perpetrate such crime," 

E'en Slavery's champions prompt so foul a deed. 
Alas ! alas ! Our faith and hope, how vain ! 

Once more the fluid o'er the wires is sped, 
And anxious, breathless millions hear again 

The mournful tidings — " Our loved Chieftain's 
dead !" 
21 



242 OUR nation's grief. 

Upon that signal morn tlie sun arose, 

In gorgeous splendor, like some monarcli proud ; 
Struggled a while his glories to disclose, 

Then veiled his face behind each weeping cloud. 
And why was this? 'Twas Nature's sympathy! 

Her pity for the aching hearts that bled ; 
Her sorrow for that untold agony — 

A nation mourning for her martyred dead. 

Dead ? Dare we say it ? When, from ages past, 

An echoing voice resounds from shore to shore- 
Though Error, thwarted thus, would shrink aghast, 

Eternal Truth shall live forevermore ! 
Eternal Truth none have the power to slay ! 

He lives and reigns e'en in a world like this ! 
Where base Iscariots heartlessly betray 

Their Lord and Master with a traitor kiss. 

Men thought they slew Him, when, by Jewish law 

Scourged before Pilate, He condemned stood ; 
When from the foot of Calvary they saw 

The last death agony, the crimson flood. 
Men thought they slew Him in that horrid scene 

Enacted on Virginia's scaffold high, 
When Harper's Ferry's hero hung between 

The snow-enshrouded earth and vaulted sky. 



OUR nation's grief. 243 

Men thought they slew Him at oar capital, 

Where glaring lights and dazzling scenes did 
blend ; 
And sympathizing hundreds gazed appalled, 

Yearning to save, yet powerless to defend. 
But vain their efforts all ! That Power Divine, 

Triumphant evermore o'er all His foes, 
When crushed the casket which that Power en- 
shrined, 

Has, Phoenix-like, from out its ashes rose. 

Then, while we mourn, as nation never mourn'd, 

The fate of one in whom we've learn'd to trust, 
Whose soul has passed beyond the mystic bourne, 

Whose dust now mingles with its kindred dust, 
Let this blest thought our drooping spirits cheer. 

And to those spirits consolation give — 
Though he has closed on earth his just career. 

In the good deeds he wrought he still doth live. 

And if another martyr yet must fall 

To save our bleeding country, there was none 

More ready to respond unto that call. 

More worthy to receive his God's " well done!" 



244 OUR nation's grief. 

Ours is the loss, his th' eternal gain 

The bliss, enfranchised spirits know above ; 

For us the darkness — the sad funeral train ; 
For him triumphant joy 'mid light and love. 

Disposer of events, hear Thou our prayer ! 

A sufl[''ring nation turns in tears to Thee ! 
Thou who dost deign the mourner's grief to share, 

Henceforth from blood-stain make that nation free ! 
May he whom Thy mysterious Providence 

Has made our leader in this signal hour, 
As firmly lean on Thy Omnipotence, 

As him we mourn, when threat'ning clouds shall 
lower ! 

Chasten'd, but not dishearten'd we have grown, 

Feeling that, but for this sad tragedy. 
Our nation's history had never known 

The crowning point of its sublimity. 
Thus, of that nation's worth a conscious pride 

Is strangely mingling with the tears we shed — 
Through keenest suff*'ring we are purified — 

Peace to the memory of our righteous dead ! 



IMMOKTALS. 



Immortals ! Who are they ? 
The 'franchisee! beings of the Spirit land ? 

Or those who, cumbered with their cumbrous clay, 
Still in probation tread this nether sphere, 
Or, alternating between hope and fear, 

On its eternal confines waiting stand ? 

Aye, all of these ! I'd dare 
Not to oppose the doctrines of philosopher or sage 

AVho cope the subtle dogmas of Yoltaire ; 
Who, to o'erthrow the creeds such dogmas wrought, 
Their untired efforts to the contest brought, 

In deeds recorded upon history's page. 

I'd not presume to give 
The flutt'ring, struggling, clay-imprisoned soul, 

A surer evidence that it shall live 
In the hereafter, than itself hath known. 
When, mindful of its weakness, at the throne 

It seeks for strength to reach its destined goal. 
21* 245 



246 IMMOETALS. 

For he who e'er liatli felt 
The calm impress that spirit doth receive 

In such communion, or hath ever dwelt 
Upon its earnest strivings for the right, 
Its aspirations for unclouded light, 

Knows of that life, and, knowing, must believe. 

Mine is a different task; 
To point to those beyond the mystic tide, 

Whose untold glories, hidden by the mask 
Of envy, prejudice, obscurity. 
Dreamed not of thanks from millions yet to be, 

While in the martyr's ranks they nobly died. 

Or those who yet in life 
Tread humbly their allotted pathway here ; 

Or, calmly gazing on the useless strife 
For fame and power, seek but themselves to know 
The duties God apportions them below. 

And to perform them, faithful, without fear. 

Rome had her heroes ; Greece, 
Assyria, Carthage, Sparta, all had theirs ; 
The olden world, whether in war or peace. 



IMMOETALS. 247 

Boasts her immortals — spirits brave and bright — 
Making the onward course of truth and right 
The constant burden of their ceaseless prayers. 

Peace, honor to their dust! 
Not rightfully alone belong to these 

My poor laudations ; they are held in trust 
Within their native climes ; where voices raise 
And grateful hearts accord to giving praise 

In swelling paeans far beyond the seas. 

Columbia, my own 
Belov'd country, turn I unto thee ; 

Proud of my birth-right; proud that I have 
known 
A heritage beneath thy skies ; can claim 
A sisterhood with those whose constant aim 

Was virtue — freemen, whom truth made free. 

Columbia ! With thy 
Name come memories of one, born 

Long ago beneath Italia's sky ; 
To whose great spirit there had been revealed 
A mighty scheme ; doomed long to be concealed, 

Ere it in glory hailed its triumph morn. 



248 IMMORTALS. 

For eighteen years he sought 
For recognition ; waited, hoped, and prayed ; 

Tlien came an answer; such as to hira brought 
Means meager, but such means as seemed to him 
A welcome beacon, howsoever dim. 

Cheering him onward by the light it shed. 

Then followed fame, success, 
Hatred, reproach, and e'en the dungeon-cell, 

For then, as now, the noblest souls claimed less 
Of earthly homage than the baser kind ; 
To such, the impartial future has assigned 

Proud monuments that shall their goodness tell. 

It was not his to see 
The friendly Banian planted on the strand 

He well might call his own ; nor yet the tree — ■ 
The deadly Upas — by that Banian's side, 
Diffusing, in an ever-flowing tide, 

Its fatal poison upon every hand. 

It was not his on earth 
To mark that startling scene, nor those 
Whicli followed ; nor to know the worth, 



IMMOKTALS. 249 

Of each convulsion ; but if clay less souls, 
Foreseeing all things from their sinless goals, 
Know well the meaning of such fearful throes, 

Then let us hope that his 
Has shared with us the sorrow and the joy, 

The danger and the triumph ; for his bliss 
Must sure be purer near the " great white throne," 
If through this conflict he hath seen and known 

All of the triumph, free from doubt's alloy. 

The noble spirits reared 
Upon his soil for the great contest stern — 

Unmoved, unwavering, as that contest neared, 
Some but with spiritual weapons armed — 
Others with carnal — calm and unalarmed. 

Though hate's red fires around their pathway burn. 

And as the war-cloud lowered. 
The mighty revolutions that it wrought — • 

The world's pet heroes sunk to craven cowards — 
Her chosen cravens raised to heroes true, 
Proving, as nearer their great triumph drew, 

Full worthy of the cause for which they fought. 



250 IMMORTALS. 

But more I need not tell 
Of those whom freedom ever shall revere ; 

How nobly in her sacred cause thej fell ; 
Some leaving honored names on fame's bright scroll ; 
Others whose records she may ne'er enroll, 

Immortal in the hearts that loved them here. 

ISTor yet that other scene — 
The dazzling brightness followed by deep gloom ; 

When he, our Chief — our modern Nazarene — 
In the proud acme of his glory fell, 
A martyr to the truth he loved so well. 

To fill henceforth a nation-rev'renc'd tomb. 

Oh, 'twas a sight sublime — 
The sorrowing millions in that funeral train — ■ 

The dusky millions who'll revere, through time, 
The deathless name of him who cared for them — 
The brightest jewels in his diadem 

The tears they shed o'er their deliverer slain. 

We who have, side by side, 
Marked the fierce strife of darkness with the li2;ht. 
And light's eventual triumph — what just pride 



IMMORTALS. 



251 



We thus have shared ; when, mingling oft our tears 
O'er our immortals — fallen in those years 
Of gloom and terror— sacrificed to right. 

In minor points we may 
Agree to differ; but in this we should — 

We must united stand for aye ! 
Freedom demands it — spirits of our slain 
Bind us together in one rendless chain — 

One common bond, cemented by their blood! 

And of the laurels green, 
That one by one have twined around the brow 

Of her, our mother country — none more bright 
shall be, 
Than those which shall thereon ere long appear, 
With the proud monuments which she shall rear 

To her immortals and to liberty. 

Then let them, let them rise! 
To be henceforth a sacred Mecca shrine 

To our successors ; and as their young eyes 
Gaze on them, let them teach to them the truth 
That life is nought — nought e'en to buoyant youth, 

When duty's call bids us that life resign. 



252 IMMOETALS. 

And we who still survive — 
To whom tliis glorious work seems but begun— 

In honor to our dead, let us e'er strive 
All trutli to raise, all error to subdue, 
Claiming alike for ever grade and hue, 

Social and civil rights till victory's won. 

All help is from on high ; 
And in the scales of justice no false weight 

Ere vet was found — then, thouo'h we siu:h 
Each day o'er wavering trust in human power, 
So prone to fail us in some signal hour 

'Twill teach this lesson — God alone is great. 

May lie whose hand Divine 
Has led us through this labyrinthian wild 

Thus far in safety, aid us to resign 
Each grievous error for the common good — 
Granting a nation, cleansed by human blood, 

A lasting peace — all pure and undefiled. 



OUE ENSIGN. 

*' O Flag, beloved in better years, 
Flag, baptized in blood and tears, 
Flag, more sacred for your cost, 
We love you better for our lost.' 



Here, beneath the oak tree sitting, 

Gaze I on the distant town ; 
Gaze I on the varied landscape 

From the hill-side sloping down, 
Clad in drapery of em'rald, 

Crimson, gold, and oaken brown, 
'Neath yon vaulting arch of ether, 

Wearing its autumnal crown. 

Sluggishly the Appomattox 
Winds along its destined way ; 

Glimmering in the effulgence 
Of the royal " king of day ;" 

22 253 



254 OUE EN-SIGN. 

Or reflecting from its surface 
Cloudlets, floating far away — 

Golden clouds, and clouds of purple, 
Leaden clouds, and ashen gray. 

Gracefully beneath yon tree-tops 

Mark our country's ensign wave ! 
Proudly profit' 'ring its protection 

To the loyal, true and brave : 
Flutt'rino^ there as others flutter 

Over many a martyr's grave ; 
Bearing far aloft the colors 

Of the land they died to save. 

Mino^led shades of white and crimson, 

Shades of azure, glowing bright 
Over all its heaven-hued surface 

With its stars of silvery white ; 
Truth and purity combining, 

Emblem of the might with right, 
Emblem of the good, the holy, 

Blood-redeemed from error's bli^-ht. 

And I think, while thus I'm gazing — 
Flag: of freedom, floating^- free — 

Musing sadly on the suft' 'rings 
Of the hosts that died for thee, 



OUK ENSIGN. 265 

What such sacrifice availeth ? 

AYhen, throughout our land, we see 
Evil's allies, plotting blindly 

'Gainst the cause of liberty. 

And my spirit breathes a prayer 

For the good, the pure, the true ; 
For the triumph, aye and ever, 

Of the red, the white, the blue ; *r 

For its all-impartial shelter 

Unto every grade and hue ; 
Unto sons whose sable fathers 

In its own defence were true. 

And as daily here I'm toiling 

'Mid a long-degraded band, 
'Mid a race as dark and dusky 

As the hosts on India's strand, 
Brought by cruel force amongst us, 

From their distant father-land, 
Oft I query — when will justice 

Come to them from God's right hand ? 

Patience, soul ! That prayer's answer 

Follows duly in the train 
Of truth's triumphs ; faithful, hopeful, 

Breathe that prayer once again ! 



256 OUR ENSIGN. 

Justice, mercy, peace, and freedom. 
For their cause was Jesus slain — 

Christ doth reign, and since He reigneth, 
All He loveth, too, shall reign. 

Fannville, Va., October, 1867. 



GATHEEED TO HIS FATHEES. 



But one dead lamb is there ; 
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, 

But hath one vacant chair." — H. W. Longfellow. 



Pictures within the realms of thouglit 
Are traced by memory's hand ; 

And vividly their scenes are wrought 
With talismanic wand. 

Most prominent among them now, 

Upon the canvass glow, 
Two scenes it was my lot to view, 

Not yet twelve months ago. 

The first of these, an "old arm-chair," 

Fill'd by an aged form, 
That oft had sway'd amid the winds 

Of life's relentless storm. 

22* 257 



258 GATHERED TO HIS FATHERS. 

A face with kindly smile for all, 

A head of silvery hair ; 
While voices full of childish mirth, 

Mingle their cadence there. 

They cluster 'round the " old arm-chair," 
They climb the envied knee ; 

Impatient each fond kiss to share, 
In innocence and glee 



The scene has changed — the snowy shroud. 

The coffin and the bier, 
'Mid solemn, sad funereal rites. 

Successively appear. 

Vacant now stands the old arm-chair. 
While childhood seeks, in vain. 

For th' endeared form 'twill ne'er 
On earth behold again. 

A grassy grave near a rural grove. 

Where zephyrs gently sigh ; 
And a name upon a plain white stone, 

Meets the gaze of the passer-by ; 



GATHEEED TO HIS FATHERS. 259 

Is all that remains of that ripen'd shock, 

The Father hath gatlier'd home ; 
Safe from each chilling blast that blows, 

Each tempest that yet may come. 

These warlike times were not for him ; 

For his was a life of love ; 
And he fled these bloody scenes below, 

For more peaceful scenes above. 

Then let him rest near that rural grove, 

Where the zephyrs gently sigh ; 
And his loved name on the plain white stone, 

Meets the gaze of the passer-by. 

For the passer-by who knew him best, 
When this earthly sphere he trod, 

Could but read in that name — "An honest man 
Is the noblest work of God." 



ONE YEAK IN THE SPIRIT-LAND. 

WRITTEN ON THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF THE DEATH 
OF A FRIEND. 



One year in the spirit-land, 

The land of the pure and fair ; 
One year on the star-gemmed strand, 

'Mid the bright- winged seraphs there ; 
One year by the crystal fount 

That flows from the throne of God ; 
One year near the holy mount 

Only by angels trod ; 
One year in the golden streets 

Of that pei-fect and sinless sphere, 
Hast thou revelled 'mid lieavenly sweets, 

While I have been toiling here. 

Tell me, enfranchised soul. 

In celestial bliss secure, 
Art thou at thy shining goal 

Becoming each day more pure ? 
2G0 



ONE YEAR IN THE SPIRIT LAND. 261 

When my spirit, from earth-cares flown, 

Seeks thine in those regions fair, 
Shall each by the other be known. 

And loved as 'mid worldly care? 
Or hast thou, through bewildering joys, 

So advanced on thy heavenly way, 
That I, amid earthly cloys, 

May not hope for that rapturous day? 

To my mental ear doth come 

A reply ; — It is thine, I ween, 
Though I in pure regions roam. 

And thou in a world of sin ; 
In that future, auspicious hour, 

When thou from that world art free, 
The unfailing, all-cleansing Power 

Thy spirit shall guide to me :" 
Father, " thy will be done !" 

That fainting spirit saith ; 
Till that shining goal be won 

Strengthen my hope and faith. 



GOING TO THE SPEINGS. 



Dust, dust fills the air like a vapor, 

In the highways of fashion and trade; 
And the mercury, ranging toward blood-heat 

By Fahrenheit, stands in the shade. 
Trunks, valises, band-boxes, portmanteaus, 

Are pack'd till thej^ almost o'erflow ; 
And the Cowperthwaites, Courtneys, and Chestons, 

Are in haste toward the wharves seen to go. 
" Whither now ?" cries a 'wilder'd spectator — 

" What is it this retinue brings. 
Thus crowding our wharves and our steamboats ?" 

'Tis responded — "They're going to the Springs 

" To the Springs, to be crowded and jostled, 
And tortur'd by Fashion's restraint ? 

To compete with each other in flirting, 

■ Or who can most gracefully faint ? 

To the Springs to be stung by mosquitoes 
At night, and by gnats through the day ? 



GOING TO THE SPKINGS. 263 

To the Springs, where for each inconvenience 
You're expected to handsomely pay? 

Why not seek at once some quaint farm-house, 
Whose quiet rusticity brings 

Untrammeird, the comforts you're needing ? 
'Twould be cheaper than going to the Springs." 

"Aye, there is the rub," my good fellow, 

Such comforts, we very well know, 
Can always be had for a trifle ; 

But 'tis there all the common folks go. 
The Mudlarks, the Popham's and Drewsters, 

Can seek snch resorts when they please ; 
Would you dare to insult us by making 

Us equal to people like these ? 
No ! rather each costl}^ annoyance 

Let us have ! Though our money has wings. 
While it lasts, Ave must keep up appearance. 

And persist still in going to the Springs. 

There are heart-aches in yon spacious mansion; 

There are debts by its inmates unpaid ; 
There are battles, hard battles with fortune, 

Through dread of yet being betray'd. 
Too poor to compete with rich neighbors. 

Too proud to acknowledge defeat, 



264 GOING TO THE SPRINGS. 

Defrauding the honest of paj^iients 
They're always unable to meet, 

Thej are sinfull}^, madly pursuing 
A courso that remorse ever brino^s : 

And, too cowardly to brave an exposure, 
Are recklessly going to the Springs. 

Did 3^ou hear that loud laugh of defiance ? 

Did you mark that still beauteous face ? 
Still beauteous ; though dire Dissipation 

Has left there his ruinous trace. 
She is the lost child of a bankrupt, 

Once left without money or home ; 
A victim of false education, 

On the broad road of ruin to roam ; 
Despising all honest employment, 

Or the peaceful reward that it brings. 
She is foil'd in the snares of the Tempter, 

And recklessly going to the Springs. 

Thus, thus upon Life's dusty highway. 
The victims of folly and pride, 

By hundreds and thousands are thronging, 
Regardless of what shall betide. 

Whenever we yield thus to Fashion, 
And sacrifice all to appear 



GOING TO THE SPEINGS. 265 

On a par with aristocrat neiglibors, 

A cringer to favor and fear, 
We daily and hourly are treading 

A path that disaster e'er brings ; 
And like Cowperthwaites, Courtneys, and Chestons 

Are foolishly going to the Springs. 

Dupes, dupes of aristocrat folly 

Are thronging our nation's highway ; 
Each year they've grown stronger and stronger, 

Each year have extended their sway. 
In vain has Democracy striven 

That rule and that sway to restrain ; 
Those haughty aristocrats, ever 

Have scorn'd from that sway to refrain. 
To the brink of disaster and ruin, 

They have borne us on swift-sailing wings ; — 
Alas, how this brave Yankee nation 

Has sadly been going to the Springs ! 

Alas, for the victims of fashion ! 

The victims of folly and pride ! 
The dupes of aristocrat folly, 

That throng us on every side ! 

God shield both the people and nation. 

That thus must be ruled by their sway ! 
23 



266 GOING TO THE SPRINGS. 

Grant them vict'ry in striving for freedom, 
Make them conquerors now and for aye ! 

Eedeem them from ev'ry disaster, 
And ev'ry dark sorrow she brings ! 

And restrain them henceforward from yielding 
To recklessly going to the Springs ! 



EAETH'S GEEAT ONES. 

" The drying of a single tear 
Hath more honor, fame, than shedding of seas of gore. 



Who are earth's great ones ?— are they those whose 
sabre, 

Hath spilled the life-blood of their fellow-man? 
Who to the sound of fife and drum, or tabor, 

March bold and fearless to the battle's van ? 
Say, were tlieij great, the firm, undaunted hero, 

The fearless conq'ror of each realm and State — 
Ambitious Bonaparte, the tyrant, Nero ? 

These were the champions whom the world calls 
great ! 

Time-honor'd Washington, renown'd Pulaski, 

France's noble son — immortal Lafayette ; 
Those who now foremost stand 'mid Truth's great 
war-cry — 
These, these are names we may not soon forget. 
267 



268 



But, turn aside — turn from tlie scroll of glory — 
Go trace each by-path in the realm of Fate ; 

There pause awhile, and read each simple story — 
The hidden annals of th' unknown great. 

Go linger thou beside the dying pillow, 

And mark that gentle one who kneels in prayer ! 
Or by yon urn beneath the drooping willow, 

List to her words of comfort spoken there ! 
Go scan each haunt of vice, each gloomy prison; 

Talk to the crime-stained wand'rer of his fate ; 
And, when from error's chains he hath arisen, 

He'll bless the kindness of the unknown great. 

Go to some home, howe'er obscure and lowly. 

To where the sister, daughter, mother, wife, 
Doth oft exert an influence most holy. 

To snatch the wayward from the snares of life. 
Such are earth's great ones ; those unknown in 
story, 

Whose names ne'er stand upon the list of fame ; 
But, who amid the brighter realms of glory, 

Eternal, blest inheritance shall claim. 



THE SIGHING OF THE PINES. 



The snow-flakes lie in stainless drifts upon Virginia 

soil — 
A soil impov'rish'd hj the tread of ill-paid sons of 

toil; 
Of swarthy sons whose Saxon sires their masters 

strove to be, 
Till War's loud clarion, echoing far proclaim'd that 

they were free. 
I'm thinking of that triumph now, and as the day 

declines, 
I list with hushed spirit to the sighing of the pines. 

What ails you — bright green visitants 'mid Winter's 

icy reign — 
Ye em'rald pledges 'mid his snows that spring shall 

come again ? 

23^ 269 



270 THE SIGHING OF THE PINES. 

Yours seems a cheerful mission — a mission grand 

and high — 
Fair emblems of unchanging bliss, then wherefore 

do ye sigh ? 
Why over valley, hill and dale, as the bright day 

declines, 
Falls on my ear your smothered wail, ye softly 

sighing pines? 

I know that darkest crimes have been enacted 'neath 

your shade, 
And warriors in their gory graves beneath your 

branches laid ; 
But rather be your strains henceforth to joyous 

numbers struns; — 
Joyous because of all the good forth from the evil 

sprung ; 
Then as each sadly sighing sound its mournful air 

resigns, 
I'll with more pleasure list to you, ye softly sighing 

pines. 

Ye heed me not ! Your sighings still fall sadly on 

my ear — 
Sadly as o'er a lov'd one's grave doth fall affection's 

tear : 



THE SIGHING OF THE PINES. 271 

Yet gentle is your gravest note ; and when the 

weary soul 
Seeks refuge from the ills of flesh at its appointed 

goal ; 
And weeping friends to mother earth its clayey 

house consigns, 
'Twere sweet to rest beneath the shade of softly 

sighing pines; 

Farmville^ Va.^New Year, 1868. 



IT IS FINISHED. 

" When Jesus, therefore, had received the vinegar, he said, ' It 
is finished !' and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost." — 
John xix. 30. 



" It is finished ! It is finished !" 

Was the agonizing cry 
Heard amid appalling darkness 

On the Mount of Calvary. 
Finished ? Yes ! For our salvation 

The sufficient, perfect plan — 
Finished all the tribulation 

Felt and known by Christ, the man. 
But beyond that earthquake — darkness — 

Midnight gloom 'mid blaze of day — 
In the realms of light and glory, 

Christ the Sov'reign lives for aye. 
And, unfetter'd by the thraldom, 

The incarnate One endured, 
His eternal Power and Godhead 

Eeign e'erlasting has secured. 

272 



IT IS FINISHED. 273 

" It is finished !" says the mourner, 

Bending o'er the lowly bed, 
Where, in weary hours departed, 

She has sooth'd the aching head. 
Whisper'd words of consolation. 

To relieve each painful throe, 
Ere the damps of the " dark valley," 

Settled on that pallid brow. 
Yes, 'tis finished ! ev'ry sorrow, 

Ev'ry earthly toil and strife ; 
Ev'ry trial and temptation 

That besets the path of life; 
But, unto the soul immortal, 

Saved by th' atoning One, 
In the realms of light and glory, 

Life eternal has begun. 

" It is finished !" says the student, 

As he twines around his brow 
Wreaths of th' unfading laurel — 

" Finished is the conflict now" ! 
Ev'ry obstacle I've conquer'd, 

Ev'ry battle I have won; 
And I leave these halls of learning^, 

Conscious that my work is done." 



274 IT IS FINISHED. 

Is it thus, aspiring student ? 

Is thy toil forever o'er ? 
And, will Duty's voice, commanding, 

Point to labor nevermore ? 
No I for many moral combats 

In the " bivouac of life," 
Yet await thee — to the warfare ! 

Gird thy armor for the strife ! 

It is finished ! it is finished ! 

Language ever breathed in vain I 
For each conquest in Life's battle 

Bids us other trophies gain. 
Nature everywhere proclaims it ! 

In the earth, the sea, the skj^ ! 
Action, progress are her watchwords — • 

Watchwords for Eternity. 
And the poet speaketh truly, 

When, to mortal man he saith, 
In an unmistaken language, 

Fraught with wisdom, hope, and faith- 
" Onward, onward, onw^ard ever, 

Human progress none can stay ; 
All who make the vain endeavor, 

Shall, like chaff, be swept away !" 



